


Best Damn Titanic

by Fabby



Category: Titanic (1997)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Literally following the movie scene by scene but making it hilarious., PARODY PARODY PARODY, Parody, Please don't take this seriously!, RMS Titanic, This is all jokes!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 105,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabby/pseuds/Fabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that scene toward the end of Titanic when Jack and Rose definitely would have both fit on that wooden thing but instead he lets Rose hog the whole thing and he just floats in the freezing sea and dies? What the hell? And why isn’t Jack more amazed by all the food when he eats in the fancy first-class dining room? We’d be loading up a wheelbarrow of food to take back to steerage, but alright, whatever.</p><p>We feel like if James Cameron wrote Titanic with any semblance of reality/hilarity/perfection, it would have gone a little bit differently. </p><p>We think it would go something like this.</p><p><b>Note:</b> This is a gentle and hilarious take on the movie Titanic, as conceived by one James Cameron. We don’t mean to make light of the actual Titanic disaster, nor of the people who lost their lives that evening. This is strictly about the movie. Which is hilarious on its own, but we made it so much better. Now get to reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please keep in mind that this is supposed to be funny, so things can get a bit silly at times! POVs change _a lot_ because it makes things more fun, and we decided to spice things up a bit by referring to third person POV as "Jesus Christ's POV." So, you know. Just roll with it! I promise if you give it a chance you'll end up loving it!
> 
> We strongly recommend watching Titanic to fully understand all the nonsense that goes down in this story! We assume that you've seen it at one point or another since it was released in 1997, unless you live under a rock, but it's always good to have a refresher! This story follows along with the movie scene by scene, though we have added a BUNCH of things that were not in the movie... but should have been! 
> 
> Now, sit back, relax, grab a drink and prepare to see the side of Titanic James Cameron didn't want you to see.

**~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~**

So I was twenty thousand leagues under the sea with my friend/employee Fatty and we were stalking Titanic. By which I mean the ship. The almost hundred year old ship. We were using a robot device to move wreckage aside. I need to find the diamond that was on the ship. Need to. Idk why. I just do.

**~*~*FATTY'S POV*~*~**

"You're so full of shit, Boss," I told my boss Brock after he narrated what he was doing into the video camera. I call him Boss because he's my boss. Also because he's _boss_ , like the cool kids say.

But Boss wasn't paying attention anymore. He peered closer to the screen, where I was using the robot claws to move aside debris.

"What's that?" he asked.

I hoped that by "that" he meant the cool shirt I had just bought, which depicted a happy face with a bullet in its head. It was sitting in a plastic bag by my feet. I'd bought one for me and one for Boss, but he hadn't mentioned it all day. His was in a gold gift bag with glitter and ribbons and a tag that said "TO: BOSS. FROM: LEWIS BODINE, YOUR FRIEND/EMPLOYEE." But he still hadn't touched it.

**~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~**

"What's what?" Fatty asked.

"Get in closer," I directed. Fatty moved the robot arms to my liking and there it was. The safe. I smiled creepily.

So then it was later and we'd called the press, the CIA, the FBI, and especially the coast guard, to all gather round me as my minions wrenched open the safe. This was my moment. This was my time to shine.

At last, the safe was forced open and a bunch of gross-looking brownish/reddish liquid spurted out. Despite the fact that I was wearing a long-sleeved thick wooly sweater, I thrust my eager arm, sleeve and all, into the safe to pull out what I could find. This sweater doesn't matter. Idk where I even got it from, anyway.

**~*~*FATTY'S POV*~*~**

It was from me. I bought him that sweater. God damn it.

**~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~**

I rummaged my sweatered arm all around and inside of and between and betwixt the safe, feeling around for something hard and diamond-like. But all I felt were a bunch of soggy, wet papers. I pulled them out and rummaged around one more time, feeling every corner with my fingers and the sleeve of my sweater, making sure to feel every nook and cranny of the disgusting, liquidy safe. But it was empty. I could feel my erection deflate. It did not feel good.

I looked up and saw that Fatty had thrust the camera in my face. "Turn it off," I said, all pissy-like.

So then I was on my boat, watching as my minions used ayo to carefully recover the contents of the papers that weren't diamonds. Not that anything matters anymore.

"It's koo, it's koo," I said into the phone to my investors. By which I mean Grandma. "We found important stuff. It wasn't a waste, I promise." As I lied, I looked up on the screen and saw that one of my minions was currently using a stream of water to brush action off what appeared to be a drawing of a sexxi naked lady. "Hold up," I told Grandma, stepping closer to the minion. The drawing was sexxi. I could get off to this.

And that was when I saw it. The sexxi lady was wearing the diamond.

"I'll be god damned."

**~*~*Old Rose’s POV~*~***

So it was morning, another morning on this damn earth; why couldn’t I just die already? I laid in bed for a long time, thinking of my long lost love, before I hollered for my granddaughter, Lizzy, to tend to me.

“Lizzy! Lizzy I need tending!”

“I’m coming, Old Rose,” Lizzy replied, scurrying into the room to tend me. She pulled me out of my bed, my old bones cracking along the way, before I shrugged her off.

“I got it, bitch.”

“What do you want to do today, Nana-Old-Rose-Person?”

“What I do every day. Make pottery.”

“Sure, sure,” Lizzy said, dragging me along towards the living room. We had to jump over the dog at one point, but all was G. I’m old but I’m spry.

“I demand you make me a sandwich while I make masterpieces,” I said, giving her a pointed look. Well, it was more diagonal because she was standing diagonally from me. “I would like a peanut butter and roast beef sandwich. No crust or I’ll have to get the hose again,” I sassed, although I was not kidding. The last time she left the crust on, she got the hose.

So then Lizzy went off to make my sandwich and I went off to make my pot.

Pottery. Not marijuana. I don’t do that stuff.

Not anymore.

Not like this.

Not this night.

There was that time back in college, when I was mourning my long lost love, that I decided to try and overdose on Pot. But then I remembered that damn promise I made to Mr. Dawson and realized I had to not overdose. So I didn’t. And I lived.

Again.

I’m a survivor, you know.

Anyway, I was halfway done making my pot(tery) and I could smell that my sandwich was almost cooked. My hands were covered in filth and I swooped and swirled them around the clay type stuff, but I heard something on the television that made me boing. I grabbed my cane, with my filth-covered hand, and hobbled my way into the kitchen.

Lizzy, who had my sandwich now prepared, which smelled like it still had the crust on, where is that hose, looked at me with a quizzical look. 

“Eh?” she asked.

“Bitch, turn that up.”

My eyes were glued to the TV with Elmers Glue as I stared at myself being revealed. I could recognize my own fabulous breast (single. Only one) from 1912 any day. My jaw dropped, from the sight of my own boob and the crust left on my potentially delicious sandwich, and Lizzy looked at me with a giant question mark on her forehead.

“I’ll be god damned.”

"What is it, Nana?" Lizzy asked.

"Bitch please," I dismissed her. I did not have time for her questions. I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen. I had been holding this secret in for decades and decades, and now--finally--it was time to let it out. This had to be why I was still alive.

"Hello?" a man answered. He sounded like he had some stuff on his nose. But that was just a guess.

"Oh," I said, all casual-like, "I was wondering if you had found the heart of the ocean yet."

"EH?????" he asked. "Do you know who the woman in the picture is?"

"Oh, yes," I said, all casual-like. "The woman in the picture is me."

"Oh my gah hold on! I'mma give the phone to my boss. When he gets on, say EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID. EXACTLY. WORD FOR WORD."

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite," I said. "But I don't have all day, bitch."

While I waited, I glanced forlornly at my pot. I needed to get back to that. I could tell Lizzy was desperately trying to make eye contact with me, but I wasn't having it. I wasn't going to answer her questioning questions standing in my kitchen like some harlot. I had been planning how I was going to tell my story for a long time, and this wasn't it.

I overheard the man on the phone telling someone, "You have to speak up, she's kinda old."

That bitch.

"Hi Rose," said some other man. "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you had found the heart of the ocean yet," I said, not as casual-like as before because I was getting sick of this shit.

I heard him boing. "You have my attention, Rose," he said. "Can you tell us who the woman in the picture is?"

"Oh, yes," I said, le sighing. "The woman in the picture is me."

**~*~*FATTY'S POV~*~***

Fuck everything.

I textied Boss once LAST NIGHT and again THIS MORNING asking if he wanted to be twinsies and wear the bullet happy face shirt today. He didn't respond. Well, he DID respond. But not to what I said. I got a texty from him last night:

  


To which I had responded:

...and he didn't say shit.

Whatev. I was wearing the shirt and it looked sexxi. So fuck Boss. And fuck Rose.

"Srsly, bitch?" I asked Boss when I showed up to work that morning. "She's a god damned liar! What makes you think she's the girl in the picture? The only person on Titanic named Rose was Rose DeWitt Bukater, who died on that ship. I googled the fuck out of this bitch, and before she got married she was Rose Dawson, and was an actress. AN ACTRESS! There's your first clue." Ugg. Boss was walking fast and I had to scurry to keep up.

"Anyone who knows about that diamond is either dead or on this ship," Boss said, using his erection to pole vault himself further along to le helicopter pad. "But SHE KNOWS."

"If she survived the sinking of le Titanic, she'd have to be over 100."

"She'll be 101 next spring."

"Okay, so she's a VERY OLD god damned liar!"

Boss just le shrugged.

I ugged some more and stood behind Boss as the helicopter landed, getting wind all up in my face/beard. I watched as the helicopter opened and a spry bitch came out, along with this alleged Rose bitch in a wheelchair. She had a small white terrier and a thousand suitcases, and she handed a goldfish bowl to Boss, as if he was nothing more than a minion.

"DOESN'T EXACTLY TRAVEL LIGHT, DOES SHE?" I shouted to the minion on my right.

**~*~*~*~ Minion on the right’s POV ~*~*~*~**

Why is this fat man talking to me?

**~*~*~*~* Brock’s POV ~*~*~*~**

My erection to talk to this old sexxi bitch was _huge._ I could barely contain it. She just arrived on this ship type action a few minutes ago, but I was already sprinting (literally) towards her room. I had so many questions!

“BRO! BRO WAIT UP! BRO!” Fatty called out to me, through his heavy breathing. He could not run very well. He was very fat.

I groaned loudly, “Bitch, what?” I asked, stopping my effortless sprinting and turning around to look at him. Sweat was running down his forehead. It reminded me of that worthless guy in Simple Plan. “And I’m not your bro.”

“No, Bro as in short for Brock, not brother.” He was still panting.

“Oh, okay, I’ll accept that.”

“Why were you running?” he asked, bracing his sweaty palms against his sweaty thighs as he tried to catch his breath. Perhaps we should set up a meeting to talk about his diet. I could have one of the minions create him a meal plan and exercise routine.

“Isn’t it obvious?!?!?!?” I gasped. “I have so many questions!”

“For the ACTRESS?” he asked bitterly.

“Here,” I said, whipping out a snickers bar and tossing it at him like the filth he is. I watched as it bounced off his ugly shirt and fell to the ground. His eyes lit up like a beacon on the shore as he eagerly bent down to retrieve my treat I gave him. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m scheduling a meeting to talk about your… _condition_ later this week.”

Fatty was too busy unwrapping his treat to hear me.

I took that as a perfect opportunity to continue my sprint towards Old Rose.

“What, bitch?” Old Rose asked when I finally caught up to her. She had already settled in to her cabin, and her sexxi granddaughter Lizzy was putting away her action like a good lad.

“Um… I was wondering how you were _settling in_ ,” I said, all worried and concerned-like. “Is everything okay? Is everything kosher? Is it G? Can Fatty get you anything?”

“Have you met my granddaughter?” Old Rose asked. “This is Lizzy. She’s my bitch.”

“We already met, Nana,” Lizzy said. “Up on the deck. Literally two minutes ago. Literally.”

Old Rose le shrugged. “The fuck do you expect; I’m 100 years old. I’m in the goddamn triple digits. The trip didge. Y’all should worship the ground I walk on.”

Fatty cleared his throat and rolled his eyes and made some disapproving grunts and whinnies.

I sighed. “So… you’re good? Can we dispense with the lube? Get this show on the road? Get this party started?”

“I would like to see my picture.”

So then I was showing Old Rose her picture in the little water bucket action. I’d already gotten off to it several times, but I fished some of my semen out of the water. She won’t suspect a thing.

“Do you really think that’s you, Nana?” Lizzy asked cuntily.

“That is me, bitch. Wasn’t I a goddamn treat?”

I had to agree.

“Ite, Rose,” I said. “I have a test for you. I tracked this action down through an old claim from insurance records. What name was the claim under, Rose?”

“Oh, idk,” she said all casual like, shrugging and looking around the room. “Someone named… oh, I don’t know… HOCKLEY?”

My erection sprang to life. “YES. YES. Oh my gah. Yes. And if you are who you say you are, you were wearing the diamond le night the ship sank. And that makes you MY NEW BEST FRIEND.” I grinned adorably at my new bff.

**~*~*~*~*Fatty’s POV*~*~*~*~**

This goddamn asshole. I ripped off my custom-made LEWIS AND BROCK BFFS FOREVER necklace and threw it in the garbage. Boss never even fucking wore his half anyway.

I watched as Old Rose went down memory lane and gasmed over all the crap we recovered.

“This was mine! How extraordinary!” she gasmed, picking up a fugly butterfly hair clip with gangrene all over it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brock said, throwing le hair clip out of her hands. “Whatev. Let’s get to the diamond. Are you ready to go back to Titanic?”

I gleamed with glee. This was my time to shine.

“Iite, sit your old ass down. You’re in for a fucking _treat_ ,” I said, pushing Rose down into a chair. I may have broken her hip, but whatever, this was my _moment._ I eagerly turned on the computer and swiveled the screen around to face her. “So look, there was this ship, right? Titanic. It was called Titanic. It was this ship that people died on.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Rose butted in like the rude person she truly was. Doesn’t she know it’s my time to SHINE?

“Did I say you could speak?” I asked, flashing her the knife hidden in my bra. (I’m a big guy, okay? They sag.) She understood what this meant and shut her old mouth. “ANYWAY, so there was this big boat that took off in like, Ireland or some shit, right? It was HUGE. The biggest ship in the WORLD. In all HISSStry, as this dude Astor said this one time. Don’t ask me how I know things, okay? I’m really smart. This fat head is full of brains, not just fat. You got that?!?!?!??!”

“Yes,” Rose answered, obedient for the first time EVER.

“Okay so this boat was going across the sea, but it was really cold outside! And it hit a fucking ICEBERG, can you believe that?!?!?!??!!” I grinned happily, looking around the room for the appropriate reactions to my intense story.

“Where did you find this guy?” Lizzie whispered not so quietly to my ex-bestie Brock.

“Idk, he just showed up one day and started calling me boss.”

“Do you even pay him?”

“No. But he eats us out of house and home. Especially because we’re on a boat and not in a house, nor a home. Ya feel?”

“I feel.”

“ANYWAY,” I said, glaring at ex-bestie and mom-jeans. “So after it hits this iceberg everyone’s like ohhhh nooooooooo!!! That’s awful!!! But don’t worry because this ship is totes unSYNCable. No strings attached. See what I did there? Anyway, then it turns out that the boat JUST GOT PAID IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT--no, I’m kidding, but it turns out the boat is totes sinkable and it starts to sink. Sink. Sync. Nsync.”

“DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING POINT?!?!?!” Rose yoddled.

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay, continue,” she said, sitting back down because apparently she stood up at one point.

“So the ship starts sinking and it goes like this, SKKKKKITTTTT,” I said, making the sound FX as I imitated a ship splitting in half with my hands. It looked very realistic. Maybe I should have warned everyone this story was graphic before I started. “And so, like, the first half of the ship just barrels towards the ocean floor. All those fuckers are dead. RIP. Gone. Which, funnily enough, is another Nsync reference if you’re as knowledgeable of them as I am. If you had to rate yourself, Rose, on a scale of 1-10 of your knowledge of Nsync, what would you give yourself?”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhh, probz like a 2.”

“Blasphemy.”

“Sorry, pal. Can you continue your story? I’m really into it. I can’t wait to find out how it ends.”

“Right, right.” I nodded, wiping the pie crumbs from my beard. “So then the other half of the ship is just bobbing at the surface! And those people on THAT part of the ship were NOT dead yet, but hehehehe they’re gonna be. Well, except for a few. I heard this story of this one girl who made her lover die in the water while she laid on this HUGE FUCKING PIECE OF WOOD because she was too selfish to move over and let him on. HA. What a cunt, am I right?”

“You’re right!” Molly Brown cackled. “You and my son are about the same size!”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Brock screamed, clearly impatient with how long this was taking.

Rose rolled her eyes and not-so-coyly whispered to him, “New Money.”

We all watched as Molly scurried away.

“So anyway, that’s kinda all I got.”

“Well,” Rose said, nodding her head a bit. “Thank you for that… fine… forensic… KINDA CUNTY WAY of telling me about my life. You’ve been of great service. Don’t you have a meal to get to?”

“You’re right--”

“I WAS RIGHT!” Molly ran back in. “MY SON! SIZE! YOU! YALL! US! WE!”

“SECURITY!” Brock screamed. 

After security dragged her away and Brock stopped crying from his impatience, he sat down backwards in a chair and grinned an excited grin at Rose and said, “WILL YOU SHARE IT WITH US NOW?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!!??!!”

My duty here was clrly done, so I scurried off to find Molly and the snack-cart.

**~*~*~*~*~Brock’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

I waited in suspense and anticipation for Old Rose to answer my question. And then I got tired of waiting. “HEY!” I blew my rape whistle. Everyone turned to look at me, and the coast guard sailed up out of nowhere, ready to help. I shooed the coast guard away with my hand and turned back to the group. “I said, _Will you share it with us now?”_

Old Rose wasn’t even looking my my direction. The bitch had wandered off to the monitors of underwater footage.

“Can we focus, please?” I asked, trying to be polite and patient. I snapped my fingers. But no. She was having a _moment._

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” she gasped, shielding her eyes from the wreckage. Srsly? She sits through Fatty’s graphic presentation without batting an eye (srsly, it was almost too much for me. But once I asked him to remove the slideshow of rotting corpses, it wasn’t too bad) but she can’t handle the damn monitor?

“I’m taking her to rest,” Lizzy said, like a boss.

“NO.” Old Rose whipped her head around and wagged her finger back and forth in Lizzy’s face. “I’m staying.” She was the true boss in this relationship.

“Oh, thank gah,” I said. “So. Rose. Tell us your tale.”

Rose sat down in her chair and scooted around in her chair. “It’s been 84 years--”

“That’s okay, boo. Don’t you worry your pretty little gray old elderly head about it! Just tell us anything you can remember! Anything at all! Whatever is still clanking around in that brain of yours! I’m easy! I’ll take anything you got!”

“Bitch?” Old Rose said, raising her eyebrows. “Do you want to hear the story or not? Who invited who onto this boat to tell whose Titanic story? Were you on the Titanic? Is this your time? Is it story hour with Brock? DO NOT INTERRUPT ME.”

My erection was so large I didn’t even care that she’d just shamed me. “My b,” I said.

“You’re goddamn right it’s your b. Now where were we?”

“You said--”

“That was a test and you failed. DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING.”

I blushed and giggled and tee-heed. Oh, Rose. She got me good. “Sorry.”

“It’s been 84 years,” she repeated. She paused and glared at me to see if I was going to say anything. I pretended to zip my lips shut and grinned angelically at her. When she was satisfied I wouldn’t talk, she continued, “...and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. The teacups had never been held. The chairs had never been sat on. The drawers had never been opened. The mirrors had never been looked in. The air had never been breathed...”

As she continued, I looked around the room. Lizzy was sighing, and Fatty was rolling his eyes. I wanted to speak up, but I had learned my lesson. Rose would get on with it when she was ready.

“The carpeting had never been stepped on,” she carried on. I may have dozed off for a bit there, but I perked up again when she said, “You get the gist. Shit was new. Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was.” She paused for effect. “It really was…”

**~*~*~*~*~FLASHBACK TO 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~*~*~*~***

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Another day in my horrible life.

Minion #27 parked the car and Minion #14 held out a hand for me. I took it like the bitch I am and stepped down onto the pavement. The brim of my incredibly large hat was obscuring my view, so I lifted it to look at what piece of crap I’d be boarding today.

“It doesn’t look any bigger than the last piece of crap,” I sighed.

“Well, it is,” said my fiance, Cal. “It’s bigger. And far more luxurious.” As I sighed again, Cal turned to my mother. “Your daughter is very difficult to impress, Ruth.”

My mother giggled and blushed and tee-hee’d. I rolled my eyes.

“This ship is unsinkable,” Cal continued. “God himself could not sink this ship. If I said a prayer to God asking him to sink this ship, he’d have to respond, ‘That is not something I am capable of doing, Caledon.’ Because it is physically impossible for this ship to sink.”

Cal dealt with our piles of luggage, and then we walked up the platform to the ship. I thought to myself about how Titanic was the ship of dreams, but only to everyone else. To me, it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains. I cannot stress this enough. It was a literal slave ship and I was a literal slave. I may as well have dark skin and an afro and be singing slave songs about glory glory hallelujah. I may as well be getting whipped by the overseer while picking cotton. I was a _literal_ slave, and no amount of money or jewelry can change that. And slavery was awful. It was just awful.

**~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~**~*~***

A bar.

Southampton.

1912.

Four men sat around a table, smoking ciggies and drinking pints. They were all glaring at each other. There were other people in this bar too, but they don’t matter. They’re just extras. 

Four men.

A Swede.

Another Swede.

A waiter from Olive Garden.

A sexxi blonde man.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

They were in the midst of a intense poker game, betting literally everything they own.

“I raise you three dollars and this jar of lingonberry jam,” Sven said, in Swedish.

“I raise you this here pocket watch and an additional 43 cents, Sven. Ja. Stockholm. Lutfisk,” Olaf responded, also in Swedish.

“FETTUCCINE ALFREDO! TEEHEEHEE! MARINARA! AH-PEET-ZA PIE! TOHOHOHO,” Fabby replied, in Italian.

They all turned to the sexxi blonde guy, wondering how he could possibly top all of their bets. “I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket,” he said in perfect English. “I’ve got nothing to offer you.”

“That’s a something! HEHEHEHE! VEAL PARMESANA!” Fabby piped up.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Jack groaned. “I bet my soul.”

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

This was it. The single most intense moment of my entire poverty ridden life. I clutched my cards tightly in front of me, taking a deep breath in before looking over at Sven. I swallowed the lump in my throat, parting my lips and narrowing my eyes at him. “Go fish.”

Everyone in the bar gasped, even the extras. They knew.

We all watched with intensity as Sven drew his card.

It was somehow my turn again.

I turned to Fabby. “Sorry, Fabby.”

“SORRY? YOU’RE A SORRY? YOU DISRESPECT MY MEAT-A-BALLS AND THEN THINK YOU CAN JUST SAY YOU’RE SORRY?” he screamed, outraged. His English then turned to Italian, like it always does when he gets angry. He’s my bestie, so I know. “ENDLESS BREADSTICKS AND SALAD COMBO!”

I wish I spoke Italian.

“I’m sorry you’re gonna have to say bye to your MOMMA.” And then I grinned. “BECAUSE WE’RE GOING TO ‘MERICA!” I slapped my cards down on the table with glee. “FOUR ACES, BITCHACHOS!”

“MAMA MIA!!!!!!!” Fabby cried, jumping out of his seat and pulling me into the largest bro hug that we’ve ever shared.

We both jumped up and down jollily while Sven and Olaf cried their eyes out, muttering things in Swedish to each other, like “Klippan two-seater sofa” and “Hemnes dresser.” I think one of them even whispered, “Meatball combo.”

“I GO TO AMERAAAAARICA!” Fabby continued to sob like the emotional bitch he is.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Bartender’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

These rowdy fucks.

They’re disrupting my business and causing a scene.

I have to put an end to this.

“Nah, _MATE._ ” And by ‘mate’, I clearly meant ‘bitch.’ “TITANIC go to America. IN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. WHY ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS STILL CELEBRATING? YOU REALIZE YOU JUST WON A FREE TRIP TO THE U S OF FUCKING A AND YOU’RE GOING TO **MISS IT** BECAUSE YOU CAN’T STOP YOUR NONSENSE? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID??????”

What cunts.

~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~

“Fettuccine alfredo!” Fabby cursed. “We’ve got-a to get a move on!”

I swept all the money on the table into my knapsack, which doubles as a sleeping bag on cold nights. I think I accidentally got a coaster or two--even better; maybe I could sell them to the other steerage folks on the Titanic.

Our bags and money and coasters in tow, Fabby and I raced through the busy streets, stepping on toes and crawling under galloping horses and causing general mayhem. While we ran, I yelled pearls of wisdom at Fabby.

“We’re rich bitches now!” I shouted behind me.

“Yay!” Fabby said.

“We’re no longer street filth!”

“Yay!”

“We’re the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, you know that?”

“Yay!”

Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t even listen to me.

We approached the ship, and I noticed that they were taking away the platform apparatus connecting the dock to the ship. “Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait!” I shouted as we ran across the platform. “Hold on. We’re passengers!” I waved our tickets around obnoxiously.

“Have you been through the inspection queue?” the officer asked.

Without breaking eye contact with the officer, I leaned toward Fabby. “Be cool. I got this,” I mumbled. I focused my attention back on the officer. “Of course!” I grinned brightly, showing him my pearly whites. Well. Pearly yellows. I smoke and I don’t own a toothbrush; let’s be real. But it’s all I got.

I saw the officer look over at Fabby. A cockroach creeped out from behind Fabby’s ear.

“Anyway,” I said, clearing my throat, “we don’t have any lice; we’re Americans. The both of us. Him and me. That darkie and this whitey.”

The officer narrowed his eyes at us, then looked back to Fabby, then to the cockroach.

“Mozzarella,” Fabby said helpfully.

I flashed the officer my pearly yellows and silently pleaded with him to let us through. The suspense was killing me.

“Whatever,” the officer said, rolling his eyes and stepping past. Gleefully, Fabby and I jumped from the platform to the ship.

“We’re so goddamn lucky!” I shouted as Fabby and I ran up to the deck. Idk how I just knew exactly what twists and turns to take to get to the deck even though it was my first time aboard, but I’m just that good. I took a place against the rail and leaned forward, waving good-bye at all the bitches who wish they could be me right now. “Bye!” I shouted. If I squinted I could just make out the pissed-off faces of Sven and Olaf. “Suck it!” I added for good measure.

“You know someBODY?” Fabby asked.

“Of course not, you idiot!” I tousled Fabby’s hair. “That’s not the point!”

Fabby tilted his head. “Then… what is… point?”

I ignored him and went back to waving. “Good-bye! I’ll miss you! JK, I won’t!”

Fabby shrugged and fabbed to me. I call it “fabbing” whenever he gives in and does whatever I do. Which is a lot. “Good-bye!” he shouted, waving wildly.

“Bye!” I continued.

“Ricotta! I will never forget you!”

We did this for about an hour until it wasn’t fun anymore, because the ship had taken off and there wasn’t anyone to wave to anymore. I figured Fabby and I may as well go see what our room was all about, so we went down to the sewers of the ship. To our place in the world. After going down about twelve stories, we got to our floor.

I wandered the halls, peering my head around every corner and muttering, “360… 360…” to myself. I kept touching walls and signs and the backs of people I bumped into as I searched for room 360. Where was it?! I noticed the numbers of rooms I passed getting bigger, going from 357 to 358 to 359 to…oh my gah, there it was! 360! “Right here,” I called to Fabby, who was busy making eyes at some blond woman. But I bet she’s not important. “Fabby!” I repeated.

He quickly fabbed and followed me into the sludgy cabin. See? He always fabs to me.

“How you doin’?” I greeted the two Swedes in the room. “Jack. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand to one of them. “Jack Dawson, nice to meet you.”

He just looked down at my hand.

“What are you, afraid of catching disease? Don’t act like I’m filth. You’ve got just as many diseases as I do. Shake my hand!”

He did as told, and I clapped him on the back for good measure. “I just gave you the clap! Enjoy!” I laughed. I’m hilarious. Then I turned around and saw that Fabby had jumped up to the top bunk.

“Who says you get top bunk, huh?” I teased him. I tickled Fabby and he giggled like the Pillsbury Doughboy. That boy.

“Sven? Ja?” one of them asked the other. But I don’t speak Swedish, so whatever. I laid down on my bottom bunk and sighed. I love my life.

***~*~*~*~*~* Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So then we were in our room, and I was unpacking literally every piece of art I owned. Whoever decorated these rooms should be shot. I will just decorate them myself. Fuck everybody. 

“That’s ugly!” Cal said, pointing an accusatory finger at my precious painting.

“Bite your whore tongue,” I muttered, clutching the painting tightly to my bosom. “They’re amazing! Spectacular! It’s like living in a dream, you know? There’s truth… but no logic… I want the truth from you, give me the truth, EVEN IF IT HURTS, I DON’T CARE NO MORE, NOOOOOOO,” I said casually, smiling fondly at my paintings as I placed them around the room.

“Who painted that filth?” Cal asked.

“Piccasso, or some bumbumbum like him.”

Cal laughed like the condescending man he was. “He’ll never amount to a thing! Trust me!”

“I do not trust you,” I said.

He shrugged. “At least they were cheap.”

I couldn’t argue that. “I can’t argue that,” I sighed.

“Boom. One for Cal!” He grinned, happy as a peach. I sighed again, reaching into my back pocket and taking out the tiny notebook that kept track of our wins. I had one of the servants go fetch me a pen before I put another mark down by his name. He was catching up to me. Then I closed the notebook and slipped it back into the pocket of my dress.

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

I had won the game.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

So then it was later and Momma and I were heading off to another slave dinner, when suddenly there was all this commotion. Some adorably chubby lady was carrying _her own bags._ I was jls that she, unlike I, was not a slave to society and was able to fend for herself.

Slaves.

“WHERE ARE ALL MY BITCHES AT?!” she said, giggling happily, suitcases overflowing from her arms like the ocean below us. One of her bitches came running up behind her, eagerly grabbing the bags from her arms. “Well I wasn’t about to wait all day for you, Sonny! Here, you think you can manage?!” she asked, whipping out another suitcase from her brassiere and handing it to him.

She was so jolly.

I think her name was Molly.

“No,” Momma said, reading my thoughts like the mind reader she was. “New Money.”

I nodded. “Ah, I C.”

**~*~*~*~Captain EJ "Cappy" Smith's POV~*~*~*~**

_Man_ that nap was refreshing!

I hadn’t wanted to nap originally, but Mr. Andrews had _insisted_ that I _be a good boy_ and take my nap now, so that I wouldn’t get tired and cranky later on during dinner. And, like always, he knew what was best for me because now I felt SO REFRESHED.

With a bright smile on my face, I trotted out onto the decks with a little swagger in my step. I knew exactly what had to be done and how I had to say it (Mr. Andrews and I had just finished rehearsing) and I was _ready._

I slid on my sock-covered feet to a stop next to Mr. Murdoch, smiling over at him brightly.

“Take her to sea, Mr. Murdoch,” I said, casual as ever, smiling brightly out towards the ocean. “Let’s stretch her legs.”

Mr. Murdoch looked over at me and grinned slyly before quickly nodding and saying, “Yes, sir!”

_SIR._

I was acing this captain job.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Murdoch turned and headed towards the bridge, doing this weird waddle walk thing that was really working for him. Most people would have probably looked stupid, but he was slaying it.

“All ahead full, Mr. Moody!” Murdoch ordered one of the minions, who was quick to to scurry towards the other telegraph machine… thing… that delivered messages to the engine room. “Now we’re going to do this on my count, got it? _My_ count,” he said, glaring at Mr. Moody and daring him to go against his wishes.

Mr. Moody was quick to nod along again; he wouldn’t be the one to question Mr. Murdoch’s authority.

“1, 2, 3, now!” Murdoch declared, but Mr. Moody was a little slow on the draw and their messages didn’t go through at the exact same time. “Are you fucking serious?” Murdoch exclaimed, turning back towards Moody. “I fucking counted. Jesus. I swear, if everyone just listened to me we wouldn’t have _any_ problems on this ship!”

“Sorry, sir!”

“Everyone should just do it the _Murdoch_ way,” he groaned, speaking more to himself. “The _Murr_ way.” Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the ship driver, Billy, was texting while driving. What the fuck was wrong with him? Like a true _murr_ , Murdoch rolled his eyes and shoved Billy out of the way to take over the driving portion.

Billy was about to protest, but then he realized he could never go up against a murr. Sighing quietly to himself, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and decided it was break time.

Meanwhile, down below in the engine room, there was a man named British Emeril. It was midday, so he didn’t have any cooking to do right now, so instead he was milling about and making sure everything was prepped for dinner tonight. Suddenly, the telegraph… thing… made a dinging sound and he looked over at it.

“All ahead full,” he said, reading off what the telegraph was now pointing to. Or something. Then he went back to chopping the garlic, while his sous chef acknowledged the telegraph by… twisting it around…? I’m not too sure of the deets. Either way, British Emeril could not be bothered to do that because he still had a lot of garlic to peel and chop.

He observed all the minions rushing around to their posts as he peeled another head of garlic. All around the room people were repeating what he had called out. “All ahead full! ALL AHEAD FULLLL!” they would echo each other, making sure British Emeril’s commands had made it all around the engine room.

Up on one of the catwalks, there was a guy named Keith. He just remembered that he left his curling iron on, so he took off in a run towards his room. He was _not_ going to be the reason the Titanic caught on fire, or something. So then the engines started moving faster and people were scurrying around trying to get to their stations and all was good with the world.

Soon, they would be going _all ahead full._

British Emeril decided to put down his garlic for a moment to help out in the all ahead full process, and did so by turning one of the valves.

Meanwhile, down in the engine room full of dirty, sweaty, burly Australian minions, the main burly minion somehow got the message that they were supposed to be going all ahead full. So, being the leader of the pack, he cheered his men on. “All right! Let’s stoke her right up! That’s right, put some more coal in there ya fookin’ cunt! That’s right! G’day! We’ll go full ahead! Good work, mate! That’s a lad! Come on, now! Put ‘yer backs into it! Don’t make me go slap your mum!”

This inspired his team greatly.

They worked harder to shovel more coal into the burners.

Slowly, the steam started building and the coal did something and this, in turn, made the engines go faster? I think. Yes. That sounds about right. So then, right before everyone's eyes, the ship was going all ahead full. Fully _all._ Ahead was full of all.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

So after Fabby and I spent hours exploring the ship and salvaging for goods (we had added a dog leash, two buttons and a right shoe to our collections of things we owned). I remembered feminism and decided we had to go to the bow of the ship and have a moment. I had never been on a boat before, because I am po, but I was able to navigate everything like a pro.

“Where are we-a going?!” Fabby chortled, running along side me as we headed towards the bow.

“I have a treat for you!”

“Teeheeheehee linguine!” he giggled.

So then we made it to the front of the ship and it turns out we were THE ONLY ONES OUT THERE. Which was really amazing when you think about it, considering there are THOUSANDS of people on this ship! Maybe everyone knew that we were about to have a _moment._ A bestie moment. Bes mome. And they respectfully gave us our privacy. Either way, we were the only two folks out there.

“OMG! DOLPHINS!” I exclaimed, grabbing the back of Fabby’s head and forcing him to look down at the ocean.

“Pesto?”

“No, dolphins! Look!”

“Michelangelo?”

“STOP SPEAKING ITALIAN AND LOOK, YOU FUCK!” I said, gripping the back of his neck tighter as I shoved him down further. “Do you see them? DO YOU SEE THEM? Look! One over there! And one over there! Look, there’s another one right there! ARE YOU FUCKING LOOKING?!?!?!?!” I asked, my erection for sea creatures blinding me.

We both went into a fit of chortles.

Dolphins were so fun.

I let go of Fabby’s neck.

“I can, uh, um, eh….” he struggled in English, pointing out at the ocean and then back at me.

“Bitch what? Spit it out!”

“I can see the-a statue of liberty-a already! Teehehehehehe very small, of course! Gelato!”

“What? No you can’t,” I said, squinting at where he was pointing. I was confused. “I’m confused, how do you see the statue of liberty already? I’m pretty sure we’re still in England? Or Ireland? Or Scotland? Or Wales? I’m not quite sure where Southampton is but I know the four countries that make up the UK even though I didn’t go to school because I’m poor? Either way, I don’t think you could possibly see the statue of liberty from here. I’ve heard it’s hard to see the statue of liberty from New York City! You have to find the right place to be able to see it! It’s not just THERE, you know? There’s buildings and life in the way, Fabby. Yet we’re out here, in the middle of the ocean, somewhere in the general vicinity of the united kingdom and you, Fabby Italy, think you can actually see this? Do you know what the statue of liberty even is? Did you get your words mixed up again? The statue of liberty is that giant green statue in the middle of the Hudson River. Were you trying to say the word _ocean?_ You see the _ocean_ from here? WERE YOU TRYING TO SAY DOLPHIN? DOLLLPHIN? _DOLLLLLPHINNN. Say it with me!”_ I squinted further, desparate to see what Fabby sees. Damn my poor vision. 

Fabby blinked at me. “Don’t patronize me, Jack.”

“Sorry, love.”

“Tehehehehehe lasagna!” He shrugged happily.

Then an idea boinged into my head. I positioned Fabby in front of me and then climbed up onto the railing behind him, making sure I had one foot on each side and that my crotch was located near his backside. Then I started to gasm.

“WOOOOOOOO! WOOO WOO WOOOOO! I’M THE KING OF THE WORRRRRLLLDDDD!!!! WOOOOP! OW OW OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.” I howled.

“Garbanzo beans!!!!” Fabby gasmed as well.

Then I inserted myself into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to anyone who gets any song references above! 
> 
> Let us know what you think--we love reviews! You can also reach out to us on twitter and say hi there! @Fabby_1D 
> 
> Also, to anybody who may be confused by some of our lingo, to "gasm" just means to be really excited about something. Like "orgasm," but not. But kind of. We've tried to go back and take most of our language out (Because we honestly have a language all of our own; seriously, guys, you don't understand how many words we had to change before we could even think of posting it here.) but if you come across any sentences/words that don't make sense to you, PLEASE feel free to ask us! Point them out! We'll happily explain our thought process! But hopefully we've already done that for you =) 
> 
> See you soon!


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the disclaimer in the summary!

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So then I was having a slave luncheon with the other rich bitches. I was sitting with Cal, my momma, that jolly Molly Brown, some other people who don’t matter, and Thomas Andrews, the man who fucking built this ship. Idk how my little family of three managed to swing lunch with Mr. Andrews on the first day the ship takes off, but I guess I’m just that beautiful.

But Bruce Ismay was blabbing away like he was the one who built the ship. “Isn’t this ship great?” he asked, twirling his mustache. “It’s just so huge and perfect. And it was all my idea. All mine. What has two thumbs and invented the Titanic? This guy!” Bruce pointed his thumbs toward himself and grinned. Everyone at the table laughed, and I had to admit that I did too. It was the first time we’d ever heard that joke. It was 1912, okay? This was a progressive-ass joke for the time. Just let me have this.

“But I suppose I should _acknowledge_ the small detail that Mr. Andrews actually built the ship,” Ismay added.

We all turned to Mr. Andrews, who shrugged. “Well, you know. All in a day’s work. Too bad I couldn’t get all those lifeboats in, though.”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“You’ll see soon enough. Omniscience is a bitch, I have to say. But don’t mind me.” He stopped to write something down in a small black notebook. “Carry the one… there we go. Cure for AIDS. Now I can cross that off my to-do list.”

I took that moment to light a ciggy in my fancy rich bitch ciggy holder.

“You know I don’t like that, Rose,” my momma interjected, sticking her nose all up in my business. I blew the smoke right in her face. She took it like the bitch she is.

“She knows,” Cal said, and stubbed out my ciggy. MY CIGGY.

Before I could slap a bitch, a waiter came by to take our orders. I was excited to order the lamb. I wanted it slathered in mint sauce. Slathered!

Just as I opened my mouth, Cal said, “We’ll both have the lamb. Rare, with very little mint sauce.”

That goddamn asshole.

Cal turned to me. “You like lamb, right, sweet pea?”

I couldn’t think of anything witty or bitchy to say to that, since I do in fact like lamb, so I just smiled at him sweetly.

“You gonna cut her meat for her too, there, Cal?” Molly asked.

A silence fell over the table.

“Of course,” Cal said. “She’s a woman.”

“Oh,” said Molly. “I was--I was jk, but--alright. If that’s how y’all play it, that’s fine. So, uh, who came up with the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?”

“Obviously. I just wanted to convey how big, and hard, and masculine the Titanic is. How you could probably rub it all day long and that would only want to make it go faster.”

I mean… he was saying it, not me. The joke was right there. _Right there._ So I went for it.

“Are you familiar with Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you. OH. INTELLECTUAL BURN, BITCHES.” I turned to Cal. “Did you get that?”

“Fuck yeah,” Cal said, pulling out our score notebook. “You’re a major cunt but that was a great one.

“But it wasn’t a burn _on_ Cal,” my momma interrupted, sticking her nose in our notebook. “It shouldn’t count.”

Cal shrugged. “I’ll allow it.”

“Suck it, momma, IT COUNTS.”

“Rose, what has gotten into you?”

“Let me have my win. I don’t have time for this shit. Excuse me.” I stood up and walked off like the boss I am.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So I was drawing a little poor girl and her big poor father and minding my own business. I heard the sounds of barking and looked up to see some first class rich bitches taking their fancy dogs out for a walk.

“Typical,” an Irishman said. “First-class people bring their dogs down here to take a shite.”

“It lets us know where we rank in the scheme of things,” I said. “That is, below dogs. But on the same level as dog shit. On the scale of ranking, I mean.”

The Irishman burst into laughter at my hilarity. “You’re alright, kid. I’m Tommy Ryan.”

“Jack Dawson.”

“Fabrizio Italy.”

Oh, right, Fabby was there.

“This ship is nice, eh?” Fabby asked.

“Yeah, it’s an Irish ship.”

“No, I say it is _nice.”_

Tommy shrugged. “I heard. I just thought I’d mention that it’s Irish. Just FYI.”

“Eh… is English, no?”

“No, bitch, it was built in Ireland. Fifteen thousand Irishmen built this ship with their big Irish hands. Don’t take this away from us.”

“HAVE YOU HEARD OF DR. FREUD, YOU PIECE OF FILTH DOWN THERE?” we heard someone shout from afar. “HIS IDEAS ABOUT THE MALE PREOCCUPATION WITH SIZE MIGHT BE OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO YOU.”

I looked up to see a beautiful redheaded woman standing on the first-class bow looking above us all like she was Mufasa and we were her kingdom of subservient giraffes. I’d be her subservient giraffe all day.

“Do you make any money with your drawings?” Tommy asked. I ignored him and kept staring at the woman. Besides, one minute into meeting me and he wants to talk finances? Idk if I’m ready to spill my secrets yet.

She noticed me staring and glanced at me. Then she glanced away, and then she looked back. Then, for fun, I glanced away and then looked back. Then we both looked away and she whipped out a pair of binoculars and looked back at me. I began to get an erection. It was on.

“Ah, forget it, boyo,” Tommy said. “You’d as like have angels fly out of your arse than tap the likes of her.”

I shrugged him off. No one could tell me who to tap. But when I looked back at her again, some guy had come along and ruined the moment.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I was having eyesex with the impoverished stranger when Cal came along and grabbed my arm. “You know the rules,” he said. “You can’t repeat a burn. I heard you say the Dr. Freud thing again. IT DOESN’T COUNT.” Cal took out our score notebook and erased the tally I’d just earned.

God damn I hate him.

So then we were at dinner, another fancy fucking dinner with peeled oranges and the like. Why don’t they understand that maybe I want to peel my _own_ goddamn orange? Do they think that just because I’m a woman that I’m not _capable_ of peeling my own orange? Haven’t they heard of Dr. Freud? One time, I peeled an orange in _one long piece,_ dammit!

Anyway, so I was sitting at dinner, damming my life and all my money, and feminism, and oranges, and capitalism, when suddenly I decided _fuck this shit._ I don’t have to put up with any of this anymore! I should just kill myself! Then I wouldn’t have to look at peeled oranges and money ever again.

Fuck _everything._

So I did what any sane person would do: I started running.

I pushed past all the minions and slaves in my way, stopping at one point to pick up a peeled orange and spike it at the back of Minion #20’s head. Fuck you, sir! And then continued running. So then I kept running, running running and running, and at some point I began crying.

Killing yourself is sad, okay?

I pushed past this old bitch at one point and she gasped dramatically, clutching her pearls to her chest as she watched my fantastic body run past. Fuck you too, ma’am. Don’t you have peeled oranges to be eating? So finally, after running for about 18 minutes, I made it to the back of the boat. I ran dramatically into this post type deal and stopped for a moment to catch my breath. (I was in good shape and had a fantastic rack, but running in heels is exhausting. My pinky toes are on board with this dying decision now.)

After my breath was caught and shoved back into my lungs, I let go of the post type deal and slowly and dramatically started edging closer towards the railing. I looked around to make sure no poor people were around (I wanted to die, not catch AIDS. Mr. Andrews _just marked_ it down on his to-do list today; it is still unconquerable), and once I was sure I was alone, I grabbed onto the railing.

Time to die.

Then I remembered my list with Cal and stopped for a moment to take the small notebook out of my pocket. “You win this round, Cal,” I sighed, putting another mark by his name and then setting the list gently on the ground. I’m sure someone would find it and return it to him. Thinking better of it, I picked it back up and quickly wrote out a short FYI.

So then I was back to killing myself.

I climbed the railing, effortlessly, and then climbed down the other side. I held on tight, not ready to let go, and stared down at the ocean. Maybe I should have written a suicide note, instead of that quick FYI. Damn. Maybe I should climb back over and write a suicide note.

Just as I was about to turn back around, I suddenly heard a poor person.

“Don’t do it.”

“What the fuck?!” I exclaimed, whipping my head around, ready to kill a bitch when I realized it was the guy I was eye-fucking earlier. Still, I’m on a mission. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” I demanded.

He stared at me and then rolled his eyes. The same eyes I was eye sexing earlier. “Come on, bitch. Just give me your hand, I’ll pull you back over. You’re being completely dramatic.”

DRAMATIC?

Oh. OH. It’s ON.

“I MEAN IT!” I screamed. “I’ll let go!” I then, to make a point, let myself dangle over the edge even further. “Look at me! I’m getting closer to death!!! Look, one hand!” I said, letting one of my hands go and waving it around dramatically above my head. Then I realized I was hanging off the back of a ship and could potentially fall, so I quickly grabbed onto the railing again.

“Okay, okay, shit. My b. Can we just talk for a sec? Damn!”

“Talk? About what?” I asked, intrigued.

“Weather sure is nice today, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “Kinda cold. That’s why my nips are hard.”

“Oh,” he said, looking at my nips. “Sports? Do you like sports?”

“I dabble here and there,” I said, shrugging again. “Not really my thing.”

“Oh. Um… want to talk about why you’re killing yourself?”

“WHAT? NO!” I yelled. “Fuck this, I’m letting go!”

“No, you won’t,” he said, casual as ever.

My jaw dropped. “Don’t _presume_ to tell me what I will and will not do, you don’t fucking know me!” I screamed. “Did you know that I’m capable of peeling an orange? ALL ON MY OWN? NO! YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT. WANNA KNOW WHY? OH. BECAUSE YOU DON’T KNOW ME. BITCH.”

“Oh…” he said, adjusting his poor man’s coat. “Well… it’s just… you would have done it already, yeah?”

He had me there.

“You have me there,” I said. I watched as he took a puff off a ciggy that I didn’t realize til just now he was holding; I bet _his_ momma doesn’t care that he smokes. If he has a momma. Most poor people don’t have mommas. Unlike us rich people.

“Don’t get spooked, I’m just throwing this off the edge of the boat, mmkay?” he said, nodding down to his ciggy. I nodded. This was acceptable. I watched as he stepped closer and flicked his ciggy off the ship.

“Litter bug,” I whispered.

“What?”

“I said you have really nice hair.”

“Oh, thanks. You too. But seriously, if you jump off this boat, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.”

I huffed. “Don’t be absurd! You’ll be killed,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I will be. And you’re right, it _is_ absurd. WHAT YOU’RE DOING IS ABSURD, YOU REALIZE THAT, YA?”

“Meh.” I shrugged. “You don’t understand what it’s like, okay? I have all this money. SO MUCH MONEY. I have so much money that I don’t know what to do with it. Do you realize how _hard_ that is? People dress me and feed me and bathe me and laugh at my jokes! I just can’t take it anymore! This is a SLAVE ship, ya feel? It’s taking me to America in CHAINS. I’d rather just DIE than be this rich! I’m the most unlucky son of a bitch in the world!”

“I haven’t eaten in three days,” he said, glaring at me.

“EXACTLY! You feel me! _The man_ is always getting us down!”

“Um… yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, awkwardly. He started taking his boots off. I could smell the stench from here; it kind of made me want to jump off the ship again. “Have you ever been to Wisconsin?”

“No. What’s Wisconsin? Is that a homeless shelter?”

“Rich bitches,” he huffed under his breath.

“Bitch what?”

“I said, I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father--not my mother, she’s dead”-- _I knew it_ \--“went ice fishing out on Lake Wissota. We had to time travel first, because Lake Wissota hasn’t been built yet, but time traveling was also a thing we did together. So we went ice fishing this one time, I think it was a Tuesday in March, and--oh, you probably don’t even know what ice fishing is, do you? You’re a rich bitch?”

“I KNOW WHAT ICE FISHING IS, YOU DICK. I, UNLIKE YOU, WENT TO FUCKING SCHOOL. I ALSO KNOW THAT SOUTHAMPTON IS IN **FUCKING ENGLAND.** ”

He held his hands up. “Sorry. You just kind of seem like an… indoor girl.”

“Oh,” I said, “my b. I thought you were being a dick.”

“I was not. I just wanted to make sure you were following along with my story and were able to visualize it properly. I hate when people tell stories and just _assume_ you know what things are or what they look like. How are you supposed to imagine it, ya feel?”

“I feel.” I nodded, feeling him. Not literally. I was still feeling the railing. “Okay. Continue, then. Sorry for interrupting you.” 

“It’s koo,” he said. “But one day I fell through the ice and into the water. And I’m telling you, water that cold--like right down there”--he pointed over the railing to the water, just in case I missed it--“it hits you like a thousand knives, all over your body. One thousand. Quad didge. You can’t breathe, can’t think… at least not about anything but the pain.”

“The pain of a thousand knives?” I asked, for clarification. There might be a test later.

“Yes. Which is why I’m not looking forward to going in there after you,” he said, taking off his poverty vest and revealing a filthy layer of dirt on his poverty shirt. “But like I said… I don’t have a choice. I guess I’m kind of hoping you’ll come back over the rail so we can forget all this action.” He started to unbutton his shirt, and the stench was overwhelming. Like rotten eggs and sulfur and demons and mud.

“You’re crazy,” I said, trying to concentrate on breathing through my mouth.

“That’s what they all say, girl. But with all due respect and no offense intended… I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship.”

I nodded in approval. “Respect. If you were Cal I’d give you a tally.”

“What?” He undid another button and I swear to god the smell made me black out for a second.

“No, god, no, okay, stop,” I said. “I’ll come back over. Just keep your clothes on, please.”

He smiled the crooked smile of someone who can’t afford plastic surgery and offered his crusty, smelly, caked-with-dirt hand. Jesus. Reluctantly I took the hand and let him pull me around to face him.

“Whew,” he said, breathing stale ciggy breath right in my face. “I’m Jack Dawson.”

“Rose DeWitt Bukater.”

“I’m gonna have to get you to write that one down,” he said. We had a good laugh at his joke. Everyone knows poor people can’t read.

We were so busy laughing that when I lifted a foot to climb over the railing, my foot slipped. These goddamn heels. I’m never going back to Payless again. What was I thinking, trying to pay _less?_ What am I, poor?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” I screamed as I felt my body fall down to the murky depths below. “I can feel the thousand knives, Jack! I can feel them!”

“Bitch I’m still holding your hand. It’s okay. I got you. Pull yourself up!”

I tried, but women don’t have upper-body strength. What did he think I was, a weightlifter? Did he think I worked out? It’s 19 fucking 12. Working out is illegal for women.

“I can’t!”

“You have to pull yourself up!” Jack shouted, pulling ineffectually at my arm while I dangled above the knifey water below.

“Did I fucking stutter? Pull me up like a man,” I commanded. Jack gave in and started pulling. As he grunted and sweated and heaved and ho’d, I felt myself being lifted. And then, when he had me by the waist, he collapsed in a fit of worthlessness. He fell to the floor atop me.

Suddenly I heard footsteps pounding toward us. “What’s all this?” an officer demanded, looking from me to Jack’s clothes to Jack to me. I saw him mentally putting 2 and 2 together and getting rape for an answer.

Before I could respond, he blew his rape whistle. “GET THE MASTER AT ARMS!” he shouted.

So then the master at arms and some officers and Archibald Gracie, for whatever reason, and Cal were all standing with us, glaring away. Cal threw a blanket around my shoulders and yelled at Jack as the master at arms put handcuffs on him.

“Completely unacceptable! What were you thinking, putting your hands on MY fiancee?! Look at ME, you filth!”

I started to feel bad. “Hold up a hot minute,” I said. “While I agree that he is indeed filth, I think there’s some miscommunication happening here. See. I was feeling rebellious, and I thought maybe I’d go to the rail and do some…” I paused, looking around at the group. Once I said this, there was no going back. “Do some exercise.”

“LE GASP!” Cal gasped.

“I just… I passed by the rich bitch gym earlier, and I saw all the big, tough men exercising, and I thought I might… give it a try.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Cal said.

“I was leaning far over to do a… a…”

“A pull-up?” Cal offered.

“A pull-up! And I slipped! And I would have gone overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me.”

“She was doing a pull-up!” Cal said.

“Yeah, we heard,” said Gracie. “We were literally standing right here listening. But it’s like I always say: women and exercise do not mix.”

The master at arms uncuffed Jack and patted him on the shoulder before taking off.

“Well,” said Cal, “I guess that’s that. Off we go.”

“Uh,” said Gracie. “Perhaps a little something for the boy? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything, but I already told him you’d reward him. We pinky swore on it, and I don’t want to back out now. So…”

“Sure, sure. I think a twenty should do it,” Cal told his valet, Lovejoy, who while we’re on the subject was full of neither love nor joy.

“Whoa ho ho ho there,” I scoffed. “Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?”

Cal smirked and made a tally in my column in our notebook. Putting the notebook back in his jacket, he said, “Rose is displeased… what to DEW…”

“Can I just say something?” Jack interjected. “Um, $20 is a lot of money to me. If this were the year 2015, which I know it’s not, but if it were, $20 would be worth $472.14. Being that I’m literally homeless, I’m inclined to side with Cal on this one. A twenty would do it. A twenty would do it nicely.”

“No, that’s crap,” I interrupted. We use twenties as toilet paper. This wasn’t about Jack. “What are you going to do, Cal? What now?”

“I know. Perhaps you’d like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening,” Cal said to Jack. “You can regale us with your tale of heroism. And poverty.” Then, putting his arm around me, Cal steered us back to our cabin.

“So that’s a no on the twenty, then?” Jack shouted after us. “That’s… it’s just dinner, then?”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

What cheap assholes. I’m getting something out of this bullshit.

I whistled at Lovejoy. Not a rape whistle--I can’t afford such luxury--but a whistle with my lips. I’m a pro like that. “Can I bum a smoke?” I then chortled to myself. _Bum._ Because I’m a literal bum. _Me._

Lovejoy sighed and opened his fancy cigarette case to me. I grabbed a ciggy and put it in my mouth, then grabbed another and put it behind my ear, then grabbed six more and put them in my shoe, my left pocket, my right pocket, my left coat pocket, my right coat pocket, and then I scurried over to the bench I’d been smoking on when this all started and hid the last one under a tiny plank of wood on the bench. I patted it closed in satisfaction. No one would find my special hiding place.

“It’s interesting,” Lovejoy mused when I’d scurried back to stand before him, “that the young lady fell so quickly, yet you had time to remove your coat and your shoes.”

He walked off, leaving me to stand there with my ciggy in my mouth. Rich people are so weird. He didn’t even notice that I stole extra ciggies from him! What an idiot.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

I was back in my room now, sitting at my dressing table and was polishing the fugly hand mirror that I owned. “This is worth more than twenty dollars, too,” I whispered to it, “and you’re _fugly._ ” Who did Cal think he was?

Speaking of the devil.

“Knock knock knock,” he said, while knocking on the door. Because knocking wasn’t enough. He had to imitate the noise with his mouth. I glared at him through the reflection. He sighed, opening the door wider and stepping in. He was holding a gift box in front of him. It better be his fucking apology. “I know you’ve been melancholy--”

“MELANCHOLY? BITCH?”

“Alright, alright,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said you were only worth twenty dollars. But hey, it got you a mark in the book, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” I grinned, proud of that win. “You’re right--”

“I WAS RIGHT!!!!!” Molly screamed, kicking the door open with the force of her thunder thighs. The door fell off the hinges a bit and we both gasped in fright. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, an excited expression on her face.

“NOT NOW, MOLLY,” Cal said, shoving her back through the doorway and then attempting to close the door. He had to take out his tool kit and replace the hinge before he was able to get it to close again. I’m glad he keeps that tool kit in his pocket. “Damn her thunder thighs,” Cal sighed, shutting my music box that was currently playing Screamer by Good Charlotte--

**~*~*~*~FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS~*~*~*~**

“WAIT. _Wait._ Hold the **fuck** up!” Fatty screamed, waving his arms around dramatically to signal my story to stop. My jaw dropped. I, the 100 year old Rose, gasped at him.

“Did you not learn a fucking thing from your _Boss_ over there? When he interrupted me?” I asked, my jaw still on the floor. I watched as Lizzy wordlessly tended to me by picking my jaw up and handing it to me. “Thanks, bitch.”

“I’m sorry!” Fatty screamed. “But I can’t take this anymore! This story is a bunch of BOLOGNA!”

“Fatty, please,” Brock sighed. “It’s not lunchtime yet. You can have bologna when we take our lunch break from this story.”

“I’m not saying I **want** bologna, you backstabbing fuck!” Fatty said, glaring at him. “I’m saying this story _is_ bologna. I was trying to have an open mind to all the _bullshit_ this old bat has told us so far! I can get past the fact that saying Italian foods is somehow speaking the Italian language; I can get past the fact that she knows all these things that happened WHEN SHE WASN’T EVEN PRESENT and can somehow tell us WORD FOR FUCKING WORD what happened! WHATEVER. I’m FINE WITH THAT. BUT GOOD CHARLOTTE WASN’T FORMED UNTIL 19FUCKING95. Their first album didn’t come out until TWO FUCKING THOUSAND. There is NO WAY that your stupid little music box was playing SCREAMER!”

“Are you fucking questioning me?” I asked, ready to kill a bitch. “Were you there? Were you on the fucking Titanic? Did you _survive_ the Titanic? Huh? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IN YOUR FAT LITTLE LIFE THAT IS ANYWHERE NEAR IS INTENSE AS MINE? Right. Nothing. YOU’VE DONE NOTHING!”

Fatty glared at me.

I glared at him.

“Anyway, so then Cal shut my music box…”

**~*~*~*~*~FLASHBACK 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~*~*~***

“I was going to save this until our engagement gala next week… but now you’re pouting and making my life really difficult, so I guess you can have it now,” he said, sitting down on the edge of my dressing table and presenting me with the box.

I blinked at it. “What is it?”

“Open it.” He smiled a toothy smile, his eyes wide with excitement. He nodded down to the gift box in his hand, encouraging me to open it.

“Cal…”

“Open the box, Rosie.” He smiled wider.

I nodded, slowly reaching forward and pulling the ribbon off the box. I took a deep breath in, readying myself for the wonderful gift that was inside, before slowly lifting the top off the box. I peered inside and was met by his penis. He had cut a hole in the bottom of the box and stuck his penis inside. “Oh, CAL!” I giggled, taking the notebook out and marking one down by his name.

“YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING, DID YOU?!” he exclaimed, chortling happily while tucking himself back into his pants.

I rolled my eyes, amused at his antics. That Cal. He has my forgiveness. “You have my forgiveness,” I said, “for the twenty dollar thing. It ain’t a big deal, boo.”

“Oh, really?” he asked. “That easily? I thought you’d at least want the diamond in my pocket.”

I blinked at him. “Is that a penis innuendo, or…?”

“No!” he gasped. “I literally bought you a diamond. I literally bought you the heart of the ocean. Literally.”

“Oh,” I said casually, watching as he reached into his pocket and removed the diamond from where it had been sitting next to his tool box. He excitedly removed the necklace from the box and put it around my neck.

“This thing is CRAZY!” Cal said, still excited. “It’s 56 carats. It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth. It has a lifetime warranty! And the store was running a promotion when I bought it; you get free cleanings on it for LIFE! Up to twice a year, though. That was in the fine print. I thought it was a much bigger deal until I read that bit. But anyway, look how fucking fantastic this diamond is! They even had some frenchy french name for it… it was like, um… uhhh… le coeur de la french toast--”

“The heart of the ocean,” we both translated at the same time.

“YES!!!!!!” Cal boinged. “I FORGOT YOU SPOKE FRENCH TOO!!!!11111!”

We high fived.

I stared at my reflection, and at Cal’s excited reflection, and the light’s reflection, and the door’s reflection, and then back to Cal’s reflection, and then back to the diamond. Finally, I looked back at myself. The diamond was nice, yes, but it doesn’t exactly pay the bills.

Well, I guess it could if I sold it, but is anyone on this boat gonna buy this off me? Maybe if everyone down in the gutters where Jack lives puts their money together, they could offer me something.

I realized that Cal was still staring at me, with that same excited expression, waiting for a response.

“Oh, it’s um… it’s overwhelming.”

“Well,” he scoffed, “it’s for royalty.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Are you insinuating that I’m royalty as well? Elaborate, please.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “We _are_ royalty, Rose.” He then excitedly got down on one knee to perch beside me; we were still having this conversation through our reflections, even though we were literally right next to each other. “You know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you. There’s nothing I’d deny you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t let you do. There’s nothing that my money couldn’t buy your love with. There’s nothing that makes my erection grow quite as much as our little game we play.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Mine as well.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh open your heart to me, Rose.”

“K.” I shrugged. “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing my forehead lovingly before skipping out of the room.  
So then it was the next day and Jack and I were strolling around outside in the first class area. I’d actually gone into the bowels of the ship to the poverty floor to fetch Jack, and it was a whole thing with going down there and feeling awkward and collecting Jack and seeing Fabby trying to flirt with some girl, but you know what, it’s not important.

“I want to thank you,” I told Jack. “Not just for the whole ‘saving my life’ thing but also for your discretion. I’m trying to keep my suicidal tendencies on the DL.”

“Whatevs,” Jack said with a shrug.

“I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich girl… what can she know about misery?”

“Whaaaaaat, girrrrrrrlllllll, you... totally... know about misery. You are the queen of misery. You look so oppressed right now in your fancy yellow dress and your shiny golden brooch.”

I looked down at my brooch. “I wanted a silver one,” I said, choking back a sob. “But mother said it would clash.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jack said, caressing me with thine hand. “I was thinking about you all morning while eating my breakfast of porridge and rat meat. And the whole time I was thinking, ‘What could have happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out?’”

“It was everything! It was my whole life and everything in it! My life is throttling ahead like Herbie: Fully Loaded, and I’m powerless to stop it!” I held up my shiny diamond engagement ring.

Jack gave a low whistle as he looked at my bling. I got scared that he would grab it and try to sell it on the streets. I retracted my hand.

Jack gasped. “Oh my god, that’s enormous. I can literally see my reflection in this thing. You would have gone straight to the bottom!” Jack chortled, grabbing my hand for another look at the ring.

“I’m not… I’m not quite ready to joke about my attempted suicide, but… thanks.” I pulled my hand back, and after a bit of a struggle, he finally gave my hand up. I checked to make sure the ring was still there. It was. “Anyway, five hundred invitations have gone out. All of Philly society will be there and I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs, but no one looks up.”

“That’s… dramatic. Do you love him?”

“Bitch what?”

“Do you love him?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you love him?”

“Say what?”

“Do you love him?”

“You’re being very rude.”

“It’s a simple question. Do you love the guy or not?”

“You shouldn’t be asking me this!”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Jack said. “Do you want to play Pictionary?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Alright.” Jack pulled out a sketchpad (what is he, an artist or something?) and drew a picture of a soda can with a mountain on it.

“Mountain Dew! Dew!” I shouted.

Then Jack drew the letter U.

“You!”

Then Jack drew a heart.

“Love!”

Jack started writing out the lyrics to Amazing Grace.

“Hymn!”

Jack nodded and frantically pointed at all of the items.

“Dew… you… love... h--oh, god damn it, I’ve been tricked. This is not a suitable conversation at all! You don’t know me and I don’t know you and we are not having this conversation. Jack, Mr. Dawson, it’s been a pleasure,” I said, offering out my hand, then thinking better of it when I remembered it was the hand with my engagement ring on it. I offered out my other hand and he shook it. “I sought you out to thank you and now I have thanked you--”

“And you’ve insulted me.”

“You have no feelings; you’re poor.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

We stood there shaking hands and staring at each other. It was like time had stood still, literally. I noticed that if I looked carefully enough into his face, past the grime and the dirt and the filth, I could see that his eyes were blue.

“I thought you were leaving,” Jack said.

“I am!” I pulled my hand back and started to walk away. “And you’re so annoying,” I said, turning back. I started to walk again, but I remembered feminism and stopped to face Jack again. “Wait! I don’t have to leave! This is the rich bitch part of the ship! _You_ leave.”

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas! Well well well! Now who’s being rude?”

Damn it, he had me there.

“You have me there,” I sighed, defeated. I’m glad we are not (yet) keeping track of our wins. That would have definitely been a mark next to his name. I clearly had to one up him again; I wouldn’t be defeated so soon in our relationship. I eyed the filthy folder in his hand and quickly snatched it away. “HA! I STOLE YOUR ONLY POSSESSION IN THIS WORLD!” I exclaimed, holding the smelly thing far above my head as he jumped up and down trying to reach it.

“Give it back!”

“No!”

“This isn’t funny!” he whined, jumping again but failing to reach it. Thankfully I had my high heels on. And I’m sure his bones were weak because poor people can’t afford milk and American cheese slices. So. You know. That hindered his jumping ability.

“Ha! You can’t have it! Na na na na na na!” I taunted, throwing it over his head to Minion #201 who happened to be walking past. Jack eagerly turned around and started after Minion #201, who chortled along and tossed it back to me. “SUCKER!” I laughed evilly. “BET YOU WISH YOU COULD AFFORD CHEESE SLICES NOW, DONTCHA BITCH?!”

“This isn’t fair!” he said, pouting.

I rolled my eyes, pushing past him and opening up his filthy folder type deal. “What’re you, an _artist_ or something?” I mocked, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs and expecting to see a folder full of crap. My joke was hilarious because clearly poor people couldn’t draw. Could they even hold pencils? Did they know how to write? Maybe I should ask him to write a sentence for me and see what happens.

Would it be like Helen Keller writing for the first time?

Anyway, it turns out that poor people can have talent.

Jack smiled proudly.

“Hmm.” I narrowed my eyes at him, not willing to admit I had lost the game again. “These are… okay, I guess. I mean, they aren’t completely terrible. I’m sure if you had proper artistic tools and canvases, the quality of your work would improve. BUT, I mean, whatev, these are rather good.”

He excitedly sat down next to me.

I turned the page and stared at a picture of a woman breast feeding. Hmm. That’s an odd choice of things to paint, especially in this era. I gave him the side eye, questioning what it is he does with his poor life. I turned the page. “You aren’t complete shit,” I said with a shrug.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh they didn’t think too much of them in ol’ Perrie.”

“Perrie?” I raised my perfectly trimmed eyebrow at him. “Who’s Perrie?”

“Perrie.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Old Perrie. It’s a place.”

“What place?”

“FUCKING OLD PERRIE.”

“Is that another homeless shelter?”

“You rich fucking bitch, I’m talking about PARIS. PARIS, FRANCE. YOU KNOW, BAGUETTES? CREPES? EIFFEL TOWER?” he was screaming at me in French. I now understood what he was saying, considering I speak fluent French. 

“Ohhhhhhhhh…” I trailed off. “ _Paris_. Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

“I DIDN’T MAKE THIS EXPRESSION UP, OKAY? PEOPLE USE IT.”

I raised my eyebrow again. “What people?”

“I don’t know! Everybody!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“Um, _my_ people don’t say that. You were just trying to be cute, weren’t you?”

He sighed. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Anyway, so Paris, huh? You do get around. For a poor motherfucker--I mean, um, for a um, you know, man of… limited… needs… and assets… and stocks… and potential… and hopes and dreams… and value… and contributions to society.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA You can say it. I’m a poor guy.”

“I said poor motherfucker.”

“I’m a poor motherfucker.” He nodded happily. “I had to do some very _very_ questionable things to get on that train to Paris. I won’t go into the specifics, but it involved a pineapple, a dressing gown and a guy named Rodger.”

I sighed dramatically. “I feel ya. The last time I had to go to Paris, Mother only bought out a portion of the train for us. There were _other people_ in some of the cars. How is anyone supposed to travel like that, you know?”

Jack slowly nodded. “Yeah. How… dare they.”

“Word,” I sighed again. I turned another low quality page--seriously, what was this stuff made out of? _Trash?_ My eyes widened when I saw a naked gal. Boob on full display. I was into it. If bi-curious was a thing in 1912, sign me up. “Look at her perky little nips,” I commented. I turned another filthy page, only to be met by another naked gal. I tingled a bit. “Well well well well well well well well well well… these were drawn from--from life?”

“Um, yeah?” Jack said. “Just because I’m a poor motherfucker doesn’t mean that bitches don’t want to take their clothes off for me. You’ll see. _You’ll see.”_

I scoffed. “If you’re implying that someone like me would ever strip for someone like you,” I laughed mockingly. “You’re just--you’re crazy!”

“Mhmm.” He nodded. “You’ll see.”

“You’ll see me tossing you overboard if you say that one more time!” I exclaimed.

“Ehh you’ll kinda see that too. In a way. Give or take a few details.”

Anyway, then I went back to flipping through his naughty pictures. I kept seeing the same girl over and over again. Did he have a poor girl lover? Was this his gf? What was his relationship with this woman? Did they do the dew? “Who’s this bitch?” I asked, pointing to the bitch. “Why is she in here so many times? What’s between y’all? Did you do the dew?”

“No, no, no, she had great hands, you see?” he asked, pointing to her hands. “She gave amazing hand jo--I mean, they’re pretty hands, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Very pretty.”

“She _was_ a one legged prostitute, though…”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed, excitedly turning the page. “OH MY GAH! LOOK AT THAT! THAT HOOKER ONLY HAS ONE LEG!” I pointed at her one leg, cackling to myself. It’s not important that this picture is shown or anything though, so I kept it to myself. I secretly ripped it out, folded it up, and stuck it inside my pocket to show Cal later. It’ll be my treat for him before dinner.

I sighed happily, looking over at my new pal. “You have a gift, Jack. Not a literal gift, because you’re poor and don’t get presents, but you have a gift of some sort. Maybe I should find a better word. You have a sliver of talent. Not a whole slice, but a sliver. You have… a touch of… something. You… you _see_ people--”

“I SEE YOU!” he was quick to cut me off.

I smiled proudly, raising my nose in the air to remind him that I was better than his kind. “And?” I asked. My body was ready for his compliments.

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t have jumped.”

_What a dick._

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, Rose’s mother was having tea with her lady friends when that Molly Brown came sauntering along.

“Fuck me sideways, it’s that vulgar Brown woman,” said Ruth.

One of Ruth’s lady friends gasped. “A negro?” she asked, looking around in horror. “Aboard this ship?”

“No, _Molly_ Brown,” Ruth corrected. “And she’s headed our way. Let’s make like a banana and split.”

The ladies all stood up just as Molly arrived at their table. “Shucks, I was hopin’ to catch y’all for some tea!”

“Ohhhhhhhhh noooooooooooooooo,” Ruth said. “We just finished. What a shame. Now we’re going to take a stroll along the deck, so…”

"Wonderful! I need to catch up on my gossip!” Molly smiled.

Ruth died a little inside.

Meanwhile, at another table, Cappy and Bruce Ismay sat drinking some tea. Though Cappy’s tea was literally just milk and sugar. He was not allowed to have tea so close to his naptime.

“You haven’t lit the last four boilers?” Ismay asked.

“No,” said Cappy. “Mr. A said I didn’t need to.”

Ismay rolled his eyes. “I want to make headlines. Wouldn’t it be _wild_ if we surprised them all and got in a day early? Retire with a _bang_ , eh, EJ?”

Cappy sighed forlornly. Only Mr. A was allowed to call him EJ. And this whole situation reminded him of the Wiggles song about peer pressure. He needed to be strong, like they said in the song.

“Good man,” Ismay said approvingly.

“I didn’t say anything. I didn’t give in. I didn’t say I’d do it.”

Ismay winked at Cappy. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Cappy said.

“Understood.” Ismay winked again.

Cappy looked down at his sugar-milk. What a terrible day this was turning out to be. And it wasn’t even naptime yet.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“And after that, I worked on a squid boat in Monterey,” Jack said. “Then I went to the pier in Santa Monica and did portraits there for ten cents apiece. Remember that. Ten cents. And I’ve been homeless ever since! It would have been nice if everyone could hear me explain how I grew up, and how it is that I’m like twenty years old and all my family is dead, but whatev. Chippewa Falls. Squid boats. Portraits.”

“Why can’t I be like you, Jack? Just… head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it.”

 

“Probably because you have a family who actually cares about your whereabouts.”

I ignored him. “Say we’ll go there sometime, to that pier… even if we only ever just talk about it.”

“No, we’ll do it! Name the time and place! Let’s square this away right now. Let me pull out my planner…” Jack pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. I saw that it said:

“How’s your May looking?” Jack asked. “I’ll pencil you in. We’ll drink cheap beer. We’ll ride on the roller coaster until we throw up. Then we’ll ride horses on the beach, right on the surf. But you’ll have to do it like a real cowboy. None of that side-saddle stuff.”

I turned pale. “You mean…” I leaned in to whisper: “One leg on each side?” Then I winked at him and spread my legs a little. “Can you show me?”

“Sure!”

“Teach me to ride like a man!”

“And chew tobacco like a man!”

“And… and… _spit_ like a man!”

“They didn’t teach you that in finishing school?”

“Hehehehehehehe no!” I laughed. What a silly idea!

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Jack reached for my hand and started pulling me to the side of the ship.

“Jack, no! Jack, no! Wait, Jack! Jack!” I said, making sure to use his name as much as possible so as not to cause confusion. “Wait, Jack, I couldn’t possibly, Jack! Jack!”

“Watch,” Jack said. He arched his back and spat a perfect orb of spit over the water. It went sailing far and wide before landing on the shimmering sea. “Now you try.”

Trying to look as dignified as possible, and looking around to see if there was anyone around to disapprove, I spat a tiny speck of spit. It dribbled down my chin and slowly rolled down my dress.

“That’s _pitiful!”_

I swerved to look at him, taking offense to that. “Excuse me, Homeless McGee, I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the pitiful one here.”

“At least I can vote, bitch.” Daaaaaaaamn, he had me _again._ “Come on,” Jack said. “Arch your back, use your arms, and--” He spat another perfect orb of spit, which sailed so far I could have sworn it landed on the statue of liberty (very small, of course).

I cleared my throat a few times and hocked another loogie.

“That was better…” Jack continued to talk, but I noticed a change in the air. I smelled something like… money and… disapproval. I turned around and elbowed Jack a few times in his bony little body of poverty. He turned around and came face to face with my momma and her gang of bitches (and Molly Brown).

“Mother!” I said. “May I introduce Jack Dawson.”

“No, you may not,” said my momma. Meanwhile Molly, being a real pal, dabbed at her chin so Jack knew he still had spit on his chin. He wiped it off and smiled at her gratefully.

“Well, Jack,” said Molly, “it sounds like you’re a good man to have around in a sticky spot. That’s what she said!”

Jack and I chortled at Molly’s naughty joke. Suddenly the dinner trumpet rang, not to be confused with the tea bugle or the breakfast flute.

“Why do they insist on announcing this shit like a damn cavalry charge?” Molly asked.

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” I laughed, in a way that wasn’t fake or forced at all. “Shall we go change, Mother? Kthxbye, Jack!” I said, and scurried off with my momma before she realized that the terrible smell in the air was Jack.

**~*~*~*~*Molly Brown’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

What the hell is that smell?

Did someone let their dog take a shiet on this deck? Don’t they know they’re supposed to go down to the lower decks? SILLY MEN! With a bright smile still on my face, because I was the jolliest rich bitch who has ever lived, I turned my attention towards Jack. He was staring at Rose’s ass as she walked away. I turned and looked as well.

“Not bad,” I commented. “You could bounce a nickel off that thing.”

“If I had a nickel, I’m sure I could,” Jack agreed.

“Here, have one of my nickels,” I said, opening my purse and handing him one of my many nickels. I couldn’t spend all this money even if I tried! And now I can claim this charity on my taxes! I love being me.

I watched as Jack’s eyes lit up and he quickly pocketed the nickel.

How was this adorable poor lad supposed to fit in at dinner tonight?

“Son,” I laughed, using the same nickname that I use on my own son. He kind of reminded me of him. They had the same build. “Do you have the slightest comprehension of what you’re doing?”

Jack cackled. “Not really!”

Then we both cackled.

I love poor people.

“I remember what it was like to be poor, son,” I said jollily. “I’m what they call _New Money._ Basically it means that I’ve only recently become rich. My husband struck gold somewhere out west. I should know the details, but I don’t! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Either way, I’m no longer one of your people. I’m _one of them_ now. The _rich_ folk. And you… well, you’re about to enter the snakepit. I hope you’re ready.”

“SNAKES?” Jack exclaimed. “Nobody said a fucking thing about snakes! Why are there snakes? I don’t _fuck_ with snakes, Molly.”

“Silly boy!” I cackled. “Not literal snakes!”

“Oh. My b.”

“All’s forgiven!” I smiled brightly. I eyed him up and down, taking in his dirty clothes and his poor man’s appearance. This won’t do. He’ll be eaten alive in there! “What’re you planning to wear?” I asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him.

He blinked a few times and then gestured down at his filthy clothes.

“TO A FIRST CLASS DINNER?” I exclaimed.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He shrugged. “I just accepted your nickel. Do you really think I own a tux?”

I sighed. “Hmm… what tew dew.”

He sighed as well.

I eyed him up and down again, taking in all of his measurements and sizing information. He looks to be about the size of my previously mentioned son! “I don’t know if I’m right,” I started, “but you kind of look like Son’s size. I could maybe loan you one of his getups. He’s not here on the ship with me, he’s out west somewhere, but thankfully I have a tuxedo of his!”

“Can I sell it afterwards?” Jack asked hopefully.

“What? Bitch, no!” I cackled happily. “It’s Son’s favorite tux!”

“But I’m poor.”

I sighed, digging in my purse for another nickel. It shut him right up. “Let’s go,” I said, looping arms with him and heading towards my room. I really hope I’m right.

“I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111111111” I screamed at the top of my lungs, when Jack shrugged on the tux jacket and started adjusting himself in all the right places in the mirror. “YOU AND MY SON ARE ALMOST THE SAME SIZE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screeched. “ISN’T THAT FUCKING **FANTASTIC**?????????????? I’M SO FUCKING GOOD. JESUS. I COULD BE A CARNIVAL GAME! STEP RIGHT UP, STEP RIGHT UP AND LET THE AMAZING MOLLY BROWN DETERMINE YOUR EXACT MEASUREMENTS USING ONLY HER AMAZING EYESIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

He visibly winced at my loud tone and wiped the bit of blood that had leaked out from his ear drum. “Sure.” He ran his dirty fingers through his hair. Maybe he should have bathed first.

“Would you like to bathe?” I offered.

“Would I like to what?”

“Bathe.”

“What?”

“Bathe. You know… wash.”

“Wash what?”

“Yourself.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, confused.

“Because, sonny, you stink!”

“Oh…” He frowned.

“Don’t be sad!” I said, slapping him encouragingly on the back. “It’s not your fault! You’re poor! We all stank!” This obviously cheered him up and he was back to smiling in no time. “I’ll go run a bath for you!”

After his bath, we got him all dressed up again and stood in front of the mirror. I smiled proudly at my little adopted poor son. “You shine up like a new penny, Jack.”

His eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen a new penny!”

“Oh! I think I have one,” I said, rushing to grab my purse and dig one out from the bottom. “Here ya go, kid!” I said, flipping the coin at him.

“I’m rich…” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what'd you guys think?! Did we make you chuckle at all? Do you think we're getting a first class ticket to HELL? Are you completely offended? WE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW. Feel free to leave a comment below or tell us on twitter! @Fabby_1D
> 
> We'll be posting the next chapter soon! Stay tuned!


	3. Part Three

**~*~*~*~*~Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

Today is fucking _awesome._

I’ve made _11 fucking cents_ today. That’s more than I make off of my masterpieces in Old Perrie! I’ve also seemed to bond with some rich bitches! Well, Rose and Momma. (Molly insisted that I only refer to her as Momma now. She’s also been calling me Son. She said something about the adoption going through once we reach New York. Idk.)

Momma was going to walk me to where we were all supposed to meet, but she ran off to make sure Cappy was dressed for dinner, since Mr. Andrews was busy working on his global warming theory.

Whatever all that means.

I’m just repeating what she said.

So anyway, that’s how I found myself slowly heading towards the dining area by myself. I was waiting for Security to come and drag me out at anytime; people like me shouldn’t be in these areas without an official escort. In order to get me up here earlier, Rose had to sign me out of steerage and get me a visitor's pass and everything. She also had to sign a contract saying that I wouldn’t be left unattended at any point, and that she would be fully responsible and liable to anything that went missing during my visiting hours.

Politics.

Therefor, me being here by myself right now was a breach of my contract.

When I got to the main entrance, I was shocked to see the door man willingly open the door for me. “Good evening, sir.”

WHAT?

DOESN’T HE KNOW WHO I AM?

I looked behind me, assuming he was talking to someone else, but it turns out he was talking to me! I blinked at him, gesturing towards the door. “Eh?”

He was equally as confused.

“Was there something I could assist you with, sir?” he asked.

I looked behind me again.

I’ve never been called sir in my life!

I then remembered that I was in _disguise._ And that I had _bathed._ I’m like a Transformer! Knowing it was time to play the part, I called on all of my acting lessons I had received at the Chippewa Falls Homeless Shelter and began talking rich to him. “Trust funds!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Stock portfolios!”

“Um, sir, did you want to enter, or…?”

It wasn’t working! Think, Jack, think! “Philly Society!” I exclaimed, remembering Rose mentioning something about that earlier. I must have found the right combination of words because he pushed me through the door and slammed it behind me.

Whew. I was in.

As I made my way down the grand staircase, I eyed everything that wasn’t nailed down to the walls or floor. They were clearly going to come back with me to Fabby tonight. We would make a killing off of this stuff at the bazaar! I started my mental checklist of things to steal:

_Angel statue_  
Bowl of breath mints (bowl + actual mints. Can ration for dinners)  
Clock???? Could I get that off the wall???? Discuss with Fabby  
Rug by fancy chair  
Fancy chair  
Man’s wallet sitting in fancy chair 

Once I was finally at the bottom of the staircase, I looked around for Rose but I didn’t see her anywhere. Ugg. Leave it to rich bitches to always be late. I sighed loudly, crossing my arms over my chest and slouching against a post. I made it seem casual, but I was actually testing to see whether or not this post was part of the structural integrity of the ship, or if it was just for show. That would determine whether or not it went on the list.

I looked around me and realized that nobody else was testing the structural integrity of the ship.

Maybe I was revealing who I really was.

_Focus, Jack!_

I stood up straight, uncrossing my arms and lifting my nose high in the air. I looked down over my nose at the people that were passing, realizing that they were giving me strange looks. Shit. “Mansions, chauffeurs, gated communities, first class,” I began mumbling in Rich. This worked and people stopped staring at me.

I’m awesome.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

All bathed and ready and dressed in my evening gown with my hair curled and my makeup did and my corset buttoned, I slowly descended the staircase like an angel gliding through the night. Jack would be sure to come in his pants the moment he saw me and my beauty.

But where was Jack? I sniffed the air for that telltale scent of poverty and unwashed-ness, but I could only smell money and soap. I scanned the room for signs of his filth--maybe a muddy footprint on the rug, or a dirty stain on the banister--but I saw nothing. Where was he? Did someone ask him to leave? Damn it, I shouldn’t have left him unattended.

Then I saw a dapper gentleman with slicked-back blonde hair standing at the bottom of the staircase, pretending to shake hands with someone.

“Ahem,” I said. He didn’t turn around. Fuck if I’m going to let him miss this moment. Subtly I kicked off one of my heels and kicked it down the stairs, where it clattered its way down the steps. Jack turned around and did a double-take when he saw my radiance.

That’s right, bitch.

Gracefully (but also a little lopsidedly, since I only had one shoe on), I descended the steps with Jack’s awestruck gaze on me. When I got to the bottom, Jack reached for my hand and kissed it. What’s this? He knew our custom?

“I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I always wanted to do it,” Jack said with a laugh. I started to smile, but then something occurred to me.

“What are you doing spending money on nickelodeons? They cost a nickel, Jack! That’s a nickel more than you have!”

He smiled smugly and put his hand in his pocket, where I heard the sound of coins jangling together.

“Is that money? Do you have _money?”_

Jack shrugged. “Just a little spare change I keep around. It’s not a big deal or anything.”

“My, my.” I paused, listening again to the jangling. “Is that also my shoe that I hear?”

Not even ashamed enough to blush, Jack pulled my heel out of his pocket. While I slipped my foot back into my shoe, Mother and Cal came down the stairs. I was so excited to show them that my friend could be a rich bitch, too. I cleared my throat until they turned around.

“Darling, you remember Mr. Dawson,” I said to Cal.

Cal looked at Jack, then did a double-take. “How extraordinary!” Cal exclaimed. “You could almost pass for a gentleman!”

“Almost,” Jack said, feeling the burn. Keeping my arms low at my side, I discreetly high-fived Cal out of respect for his burn. I think the kids call this maneuver a low five.

“Care to escort a lady to dinner?” Molly asked. Not waiting for a reply, she looped her arm around his and we started walking. “It ain’t no thang, is it? Remember, they love money, so act like you have it and you’re in the club. We meet on Wednesdays.”

“Well, I do have it,” Jack said, patting his pocket. I heard the coins and… something else. I looked around the room and saw that the bowl of breath mints was gone. The mints and the literal bowl. Well, alright.

“Wanna know some shit?” I asked when we arrived to the crowded dining room. People hadn’t sat down yet; they were standing around and shooting the shit. “That bitch sells lingerie on ebay, among her many talents. That countess over there is married to John Jacob Astor, the richest man on the ship. She’s prego. See how she’s trying to hide it?” I pointed at the globe she was casually holding in front of her stomach. “Quite the scandal!”

Jack chortled at my funnies, because I’m hilarious. I knew he wanted to get near Astor now that he knew he was the richest man on the ship, so I figured I’d throw him a bone.

“JJ, Madeleine, may I introduce Jack Dawson.”

“Are you of the Boston Dawsons?” JJ asked.

“No,” Jack said, taking his hand out of Astor’s pocket long enough to answer the question like a good lad. “The Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually.”

“Mmm, quite,” said Astor.

“I don’t see Chippewa Falls anywhere on this globe here that I happen to be holding for no reason,” said Madeleine, giving the globe a spin.

Jack shrugged. “Time travel. It’s a whole thing.”

I was impressed at how well Jack was fitting in. Even his stealing was so sly that no one noticed a thing. But Mother could always be counted on.

“What’s it like in steerage, Jack?” she asked once we were seated at dinner. “You are poor, are you not?”

“Oh, steerage is G! Hardly any rats!” Everyone laughed when they heard that. Jack leaned in to ask what was so funny, and I waved him away.

“So many forks!” Jack whispered to Molly. “Oh my gah, I’m rich!”

“Just start from the outside and work your way in,” Molly replied. Jack nodded and put the outside forks in his pocket.

“Mr. Dawson is joining us from third-class tonight,” Cal said, standing on his chair to make sure everyone could hear. “The poor one is right there. You know what, I’m just going to shine this spotlight on you so there’s no confusion.”

A waiter scurried over to the spotlight. “Caviar?” he asked.

“No thanks,” said Jack. “I never did like it much.”

“This is absurd!” I said. “You are a pile of garbage. You don’t know caviar and caviar doesn’t know you and that is not a suitable statement at all!”

“I’m just setting the groundwork. Now when all the caviar is stolen, they won’t suspect me.”

That man. So economical.

“So, just to be clear,” Mother said, speaking into a microphone, “you’re homeless, right?”

“Well… technically, right now, I ain’t. My addy is the RMS Titanic. I’m having all my mail forwarded here. Jack Dawson, The Titanic, The Ocean. And once I step off here, I’m back to being homeless.”

“And how is that you’re traveling… if you’re so poor?” Mother asked. “Speak into the microphone, please.”

“Well, you know, I steal. That helps. And I hop on trains and steamers and--oh my gah, I have the biggest itch on my nose.” Jack took a good minute to scratch his nose. We all watched in anticipation.

“Jack is an artist,” I said to fill the void. “His drawings are _legit_. They’re as good as Picasso’s!”

“Rose and I differ in our definitions of fine art,” Cal said. “By which I mean I like actual art and she likes literal garbage. Oh, no offense, Jack. I’m just saying that if she likes your work, it must be crap. But no offense intended.”

“Sure, sure,” Jack said. “It’s koo. Anyway, I won my ticket here from a hand in poker. A very lucky hand.” He winked at me and I winked back.

“All life is a game of luck!” interrupted Archibald Gracie for no reason at all.

“A real man makes his own luck,” said Cal. “Wouldn’t you say, Jack?”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh idk. I just think life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you’re going to get dealt next, or what you might have a chance to steal. Oh, here you go, Cal,” he said, throwing a lighter at Cal. It was Cal’s special lighter with his initials monogrammed on it. “I didn’t mean to steal that. My b. Anyway, just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge with a blanket I sewed together from dead cockroaches, and now I’m getting crunk on this ship with you rich bitches. I am so flush with mints right now. You don’t even know. So you have to take life as it comes. You have to make each day count.”

I could feel wetness pooling in my underroos. What a sexxi speech.

“To making it count,” I said, lifting my glass. All the rich bitches fabbed to me and lifted their glasses. We all toasted Jack, except Cal, who kind of gave him a half toast/half sneer type deal. Poor Cal got beat.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

THIS IS THE BEST FUCKING SALAD I’VE EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE.

AND THIS BREAD, OH MY GAH.

I’M GOING TO EAT UNTIL I LITERALLY POP.

“Son,” Molly whispered, “stop eating so fast or I’m gonna have to prop you up on my shoulder and burp you.”

I giggled. I forgot what it was like to have a momma.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

So then it was later. Jack had just finished his meal, Molly’s meal, and was secretly taking scraps off of the person’s plate to his left. I subtly whispered over the entire table at him, “Now it will be brandies in the smoking room. No girls are allowed. All I want is to get a hit off a ciggy every now and again, but everytime I do I get fucking yelled at it. Ugg. Rich bitches.”

Jack looked up, mouth full of food, and dismissed me. “Are you gonna eat that?” he asked Mr. Andrews, nodding at the half of dinner roll that was left on his plate. Mr. A shook his head and picked up his plate, leaning far over the table so Jack could grab the remainders off of it before sitting back down.

His poor motherfucker ways were definitely showing.

“Jack,” Molly finally scolded him. He frowned and put Mr. A’s roll down.

“Can I get a doggy bag here?” I heard him whisper to Molly. She slapped his wrist, but chortled all the same.

One of the old rich men stood up just then, rubbing his fat belly and asking _only the men,_ “Join me for a cigar, gentlemen?” Fuck you all.

“Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure!” they all said in unison.

I want a cigar.

Life was so unfair.

“Life is so unfair,” I whispered at Jack, who was still very far away from me. “Now they will retreat into a cloud of smoke and choose their starters for their fantasy football league. I’ve heard it’s draft season. Then they will discuss tonight’s events and probably judge the fuck out of you, because you’re poor. They’ll compare poor people to rich bitches and congratulate each other on being _masters_ of the universe.”

I watched as Jack whispered something else to Molly, something that I didn’t hear, and she nodded ten times before reaching into her purse and handing him a tiny scrap of paper, along with a pen.

He didn’t even acknowledge my previous statement.

How fucking rude.

“Sweet pea? Buttercup? Sugar pie honey bunch? Schnookims? Baby doll? Light of my life?” Cal called.

“Yes?” I replied.

“Shall I escort you back to the room?”

“Oh, no, no.” I shook my head. “I’ll um… stay here.” HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO LEAVE BEFORE I FOUND OUT IF JACK KNEW LETTERS? Cal looked suspicious but he eventually nodded.

“Joining us, Dawson?” the old fat man asked, still rubbing his belly.

“SHIT. You made me form the letter P!” Jack said, furiously scribbling out what he just wrote. “Oh, um, what?” he asked, looking up at the old fat man. “Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I should be heading back,” he said. “My pockets are rather full.”

Mother gasped. “What?”

“I said I’m full and I have to go take a poop and a nap now,” Jack said casually, nodding towards his empty dinner plate(s). “And unbutton my pants, and take my socks off. Oh, and return this tux to Molly."

"To WHO?" Molly asked

Jack blushed. "To _Mommy._ "

“Probably best anyway,” Cal piped in. “It’ll be all business and politics and bank statements and luxury tax and real estate and whatnot. Oh, and of course there will be the poor/rich comparison and fantasy football drafting. Also, Jenkins has a power point presentation at 8pm to debrief us about this dinner. Minion #74 is setting up the projector right now. We weren’t too sure of your Making It Count speech you gave back there, so he made a bar chart to support the pros and cons of it. That sort of thing. It wouldn’t interest you.”

“Oh… I… um…” Jack stammered.

Cal smiled brightly, reaching into his pocket and taking out Jack’s lighter. It was monogrammed with the letters JD on the front (Jack Dawson, not to be confused with Jack Daniels). “You’re not the only one with sticky fingers, you know.” Cal grinned, tossing Jack his lighter. He wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Good of you to come.”

“BOOM!!!!!!!!" I screamed, jumping out of my seat and literally jumping over the chair next to me to give Cal the fist bump he deserved. I think I knocked over a waiter in the process, but it didn’t matter.

“I KNOW RIGHT?!” Cal laughed, rushing me as I tried to pull out our notebook from my pocket. Damn these tiny dress pockets! “That was fucking SLICK. He didn’t even feel me take it!” We both laughed loudly. I happily marked a point by his name, then kissed his cheek and bid him farewell before turning back around. Everyone who was left at our table was staring at me.

I cleared my throat, realization of what we just did coming back to me now that my erection had died down. I casually sat back down in my seat and smoothed the napkin over my lap. They were just jealous of our relationship. 

Suddenly Jack was by my side, holding out his hand and smiling slyly at me. “Must you go?” I smiled innocently up at him.

“Time for me to go row with the other slaves,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing it again. I internally ugged when I realized I was out of Germ-X and the bathroom’s were on the other side of the ballroom. I hope I don’t get aids. Mr. Andrews really needs to work on implementing that cure. “Did you hear me?” he said.

“What?”

“I said, time for me to go row with the other slaves.”

“OH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry for not acknowledging that the first time around. I was distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” he asked.

“AIDS.” I shrugged.

“My buddy back from Wisconsin died of AIDS,” he laughed. “Oh, Jeff. RIP.”

“How did he get AIDS?” I asked.

“Broken bottle, or something.”

We were still holding hands at this point and I felt something poking the inside of my palm. Did his hand have an erection? I hope it wasn’t a piece of that broken glass he had just mentioned. “Anyway, I’ll be off now,” he said, kissing my hand AGAIN. WHAT THE FUCK, JACK? My risk of exposure just doubled. He finally let go of my hand and it was then I realized he left a note in it.

“JACK!” I hollered, waving the note around above my head. “JACK DAWSON! JACK DAWSON, YOU FORGOT YOUR NOTE! THIS PIECE OF PAPER YOU LEFT IN MY HAND WHEN YOU SHOOK IT! JACK! JACK, WAIT!” I yelled. He turned around and glared at me, but did not stop walking. I sighed, sitting back down in my seat and making a show of unfolding the paper. I smoothed it out twice before squinting at his handwriting.

It was the equivalent of a 5 year old’s.

Anyway, it said:

_The joke is on Cal._

_That lighter belonged to a man named Jack Daniel’s. I stole it from the pub before I got on the Titanic and have used it so many times now, because I smoke a lot of stolen ciggies, that it’s out of fluid so it no longer works. HA. SUCK IT, CAL._

_Oh, also, while I was in his pockets earlier I stole his tool kit. Do you think you could help me steal the clock? You know, the big one by the staircase? I tried jimmying it off the wall earlier but it was nailed down pretty hard. I think Cal should have something in here that we could use though!_

_Maybe afterwards we could get a drink? I know a place._

_Please check YES or NO in the boxes below and return to me._

_YES  
NO_

_I’ll be by the clock, with the tool kit. If you could cause some sort of distraction on your way out, that’d be great._

_MAKE IT COUNT, BITCH._

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_  
John “Jack” Dawson,  
of the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, LLC. 

I looked up from the note with a gaspity. Jack wanted to see me? After dinner? But after dinner is the time when I change into my nightgown and sit at my desk and stare at my reflection while my music box plays Screamer until Cal comes to say good night. Should I really rebel?

I felt Mother leaning near me, and I realized I’d held the note out for the world to read. Momma was having a photographer come take a picture of it so she could show it to Cal later. Oops. I should have been more sly.

What to DEW?

Fuck it. I’m sick of listening to Screamer. I don’t even know what the fuck that song’s about, anyway. I’m going to rebel.

I checked the box next to “Yes” and made my way to the staircase. Jack was standing directly in front of the clock like he said he would. It looked like he was using a screwdriver to unscrew the base.

By the time I made it up the steps (he didn’t turn around to see me ascend the staircase because he was so focused on dismantling the clock, but you know what, whatever. I don’t feel like throwing my shoe up there), Jack had successfully unscrewed the clock. He bent his knees to lift it, and then he turned around and came face to face with me.

“Want to go to a real party?”

“Sure!” I said.

“Help me with this. Can you grab an end?” Jack thrust an end of the clock into my arms, and slowly we went up the staircase. “Excuse me,” he said to passersby. “Don’t mind me. Private schools, ascots, trust funds.” Everyone nodded, pleased that he was one of them.

After we dumped the clock off in Jack and Fabby’s room, Jack led me down to the steerage common area, where there was quite a commotion. People were playing music, but they were so poor they didn’t have instruments. Instead they were playing spoons, and banging on buckets, and one person was blowing into what looked like an old pillow with rusty pipes stuck into it. Where were the violins, the cellos, the violas?

I sat and watched as Jack danced with a little girl with big brown eyes and brown hair. I was smiling and clapping along, but inwardly I was giving this girl the side-eye. I don’t trust her.

“So anyway, I lost my job,” the man next to me said to me, “and now I’m on welfare accepting government cheese.”

“What?”

“I lost my job,” he repeated, “and now I’m on welfare accepting government cheese.”

Then I realized he was speaking poor, one of the languages I don’t speak. “I can’t understand you,” I said with a shrug, and went back to clapping along jollily. Then the song ended, and Jack stopped dancing with the little girl.

“I’m gonna dance with her now, alright?” Jack said. She pouted and stuck out her bottom lip, but Jack didn’t care. “Come on, bitch,” he said to me, holding out his hand.

“Jack, I just used Purell; I don’t want to touch any--”

Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me close. Feeling someone’s eyes on me, I looked over at the little girl and saw her staring daggers at me.

“Fuck you too, cunt,” I told her.

She began to cry.

“You’re still my best girl, Cora,” Jack told her. She gave a small smile, and then darted off. Good riddance.

“Jack, I--Idk how poor people dance,” I confessed.

“It’s cool; no one knows because we can’t afford lessons. Just go with it. But we’ll have to get a lot closer. Like this.” Jack pressed us so close I could feel his erection through his pants. I think we might have technically been having sex. “Just roll with it!” he shouted, and then we were off. We danced through all the sweaty, dirty, poor people having a jolly good time even though there were no peeled oranges in sight. I laughed, and Jack laughed, and we all laughed together. Then Jack led us up to some kind of wooden platform.

“Wait, Jack!” I said. “This platform doesn’t look very stable. It’s held together with tape!”

“Shut up and be amazed.” Jack then began doing a merry little jig. He looked over at me, expecting me to be flabbergasted. Little does he know I’ve seen my maids do this dance when they think I’m not looking. I know this jig. I took off my shoes and threw them to the nearest piece of filth. I knew she was going to run off and sell them, but I didn’t care. While just in my stockings, I began to do the dance as well, and Jack literally shat a brick when he saw me do it. He put the brick in his “To Sell” pile and came back to the stage. He did the dance some more, and I copied him again.

“Ha!” Jack shouted in glee. Then he linked arms with me and we danced merrily. Then he grabbed on to my hands and started spinning us around.

“Jack,” I said, “no. Heel.”

“AARARARAAARARARHAHHHH!” Jack gasmed.

“Tee hee!” I gasmed adorably.

“Bum bum bum,” I heard the band leader say, probably because he saw my shapely bum move about as we spun. Yw, band leader.

All sweaty and exhausted and out of breath from our dancing ventures, Jack and I walked off the stage for “refreshments,” as he phrased it. I was expecting the usual--cucumber sandwiches, iced tea, maybe some gelato and sorbet, iced water, mineral water, spring water, you know. The basics. But I was wrong. It was just beer. Lukewarm beer.

Jack handed me a glass of beer. I wasn’t sure if the glass had been sanitized, but I decided to just go with it and impress him with my swallowing skills. I chugged that beer like there was no tomorrow. I could tell he was imprest.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I was imprest.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“What?” I asked. “You think a first-class girl can’t drink?”

Suddenly someone knocked into me, causing Jack’s beer to get spilled all over my beautiful dress. But I shrugged it off because I’m so damn punk.

“Two out of tree, two out of tree!” I heard the Irish lad say when someone beat him at arm-wrestling. Those damn weak bones caused by lack of American cheese slices. Poor people need to stop overusing their weakened bones. And smoking doesn’t help. So, to be helpful, I took the ciggy out of Tommy’s mouth and took a puff. If I got AIDS, Mr. A could cure me of it, so whatev.

“So,” I said, “you think you’re big, tough men? Let’s see you do this.” I figured these poor, weak men could use a little inspiration. I was excited to show them what it’s like to eat American cheese and get the calcium your bones need.

“Heel, Jack. Hold this for me, Jack,” I said, handing him the hem of my dress. “Hold it up!” I assumed a ballet stance, raised my arms, and began to lift myself up slowly on my toes until my entire body was balanced on my toes. The room went silent as everyone stared at my calcium-charged feat with awe and jealousy.

“Ow!” I said, falling to the floor. Jack caught me like a good lad.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” swore the poor woman. I should have bleeped that obscenity out, but this is the uncensored version of my story and you will deal with it.

“I haven’t done that in years,” I said, laughing like all was right with the world. Jack continued to hold me in his arms, and we had ourselves a great little moment.

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~***

“So if we go to slide 45,” Jenkins said, using the projector remote in one hand, a laser pointer in the other. “You’ll see that the majority of people we polled shortly after his Make It Count speech thought that it was inspiring and tattoo worthy. But, on slide 46, you see the _negative_ impact that it had.”

We all watched as Jenkins flipped to the next slide.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” we all said in unison, nodding our heads and sipping our brandy. All in unison.

“Considering his lack of education and wealth,” the fat man said, brandy in one hand and rubbing his stomach with the other, “I don’t think it was a bad speech at all!”

“It was a little long winded.” I shrugged. “And I don’t necessarily like the way he was looking at my Rosie.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves, lads,” Jenkins said. “His interactions with Rose are detailed on slide 52. We’ll get there. _We’ll get there._ ”

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Jack and I finally parted a bit, after my adorable little fall into his arms, and if I had been paying attention I would have noticed that bastard Lovejoy creeping on us from the top of the staircase. But I was so high on life and poverty that I did not see it. 

“This next song is called Best I Ever Had, by Gavin DeGraw,” the band leader spoke up, then began beating his knee with his spoons. Spoons that look suspiciously like the ones from first class. I wonder if Jack had anything to do with that. Jack and I happily clapped along to the song, watching all the poor people burn calories they couldn’t afford to replace, and I inwardly wondered how many airborne diseases were in this room at this very moment.

Suddenly, Fabby and this blonde Dutch girl came zooming past, a part of some conga line type deal. “Its-a me! A-Mario!” Fabby yelled something at me in Italian as he passed but I have no idea what he said, as I was only fluent in French.

“What did he say?!” I turned to Jack.

“He said, ‘Come on, grab my hand and join this conga line with me and Olga! It’s okay, I just washed my hands a few minutes ago! Come on!’” Jack translated.

I nodded. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Well, come on then!” I chortled, grabbing Fabby’s outstretched hand with my right hand, and Jack’s with my left. Considering all those airborne diseases I had been breathing in all night, and that ciggy I took out of Tommy’s mouth, and that suspicious warm beer I drank, my chances of catching AIDS at this point was through the roof. I might as well enjoy it while it last.

“Ooooo hoo hoo!!!” Jack gasmed happily.

“Hahahahahahahahahaha!” I laughed adorably as we conga’d.

So then we conga’d until we couldn’t conga anymore.

Conga.

So then Jack and I were walking along the decks at night. He was walking me back to the first class entrance. His visitors badge had expired at midnight, and the badging off was closed until sunrise, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it past the border.

As we walked, we were drunkenly singing, and trying to remember the lyrics to, The Best Damn Thing.

“Let me hear you say hey hey hey!” I sang.

“Hey hey hey!” Jack echoed.

“Let me hear you say ho ho ho!”

“Ho ho hoooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then we sang together. “I hate it when a guy doesn’t get the door even though I told him yesterday and the day before! I hate it when a guy… something… doesn’t… something… get the uh--the bill?”

“The tab?” Jack questioned.

“That sounds right!”

“Hehehehehehehehe,” we both chortled at our drunken ways.

We continued singing the Av song until we finally made it to the border. Jack stopped walking, knowing that the alarms would sound if he stepped any further. I sighed quietly, suddenly not wanting this night to end. Who knew pretending to be poor could be so fun! Now I know why Jack had so much fun at _my_ dinner tonight! Role playing is amazing.

I took the jacket off that he had given me (like I said, I had come to terms with the fact I now had AIDS) and handed it back to him. We stared at each other for a long time. I was thinking about the Av song still, but I’m sure Jack was thinking about how he could steal one of these lifeboats and sell it on ebay once we got to New York.

“Look! A shooting star!” I gasmed, grabbing Jack’s jaw and literally making him look up at the sky. “DO YOU SEE IT?”

“I SEE IT!”

“I bet someone like you has never seen a shooting star before! Obviously, actually. Because if you had, you clearly would have wished for money. And you’re still poor. So either your wish didn’t come true because the stars hate you, or you haven’t seen one. Which is it?”

“I have not seen one.” Jack nodded.

“I figured--”

“I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!11111114214124!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Molly jumped down from the roof of the border, landing square on her feet in front of us, her hands on her hips and a bright smile across her face.

“Molly!” I whined. “I didn’t even say it! I said I figured! I didn’t say I was right--”

“ **I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** ” Molly screeched like a pterodactyl. “I knew you’d be saying my phrase eventually!”

“MOM,” Jack said, his cheeks heating up. “You’re _embarrassing_ me!” 

“SORRY, SONNY!” Molly cackled. “I didn’t mean to be a cock block. I’ll just go now. Don’t stay out too late, ya here? We’ve got a big day tomorrow! I’m gonna teach you to speak fluent Rich!”

“YAY!” Jack said. “Now shoo.”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Molly rolled her adorable eyes and then scurried off.

I grabbed onto one of the ropes that was randomly hanging, I’m sure it had something to do with the lifeboats that are totally a waste of deck space as it is, because according to Cal, God himself could not sink this ship. Either way, I grabbed onto the rope and swung around dramatically three times, humming Ring Around the Rosie to myself.

I liked to think the song was written for me.

Not the plague.

I’m clearly more important than the plague.

Better looking, too. Have you seen my rack?

Anyway, after _ashes ashes, we all fall down_ , I stopped spinning but did not fall down. Because I was in a dress and I’m a lady and we don’t do that. Silence fell over the two of us and I felt like I should say something deep and meaningful. “So vast and endless!” I exclaimed. “We’re so small! Well, you’re smaller than me. In the grand scheme of things _and_ physically. Because I eat three meals a day and you don’t. Also I have money and you don’t, which was the grand scheme of things bit. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“It was, thanks,” Jack said.

“You’re welcome.” I sighed happily.

“You know, there’s been a mistake,” Jack said, equally as deep and meaningful. “You’re not one of them. _You_ got mailed to the wrong address!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” I laughed loudly. It was funny because he could never afford postage. “LOOK! ANOTHER SHOOTING STAR!” I screamed.

“Whoa! That was a long one!”

“That’s what she said!!!!!” I heard Cal scream from our room.

“THAT DOESN’T COUNT, CAL! THAT WAS TOO EASY!” I grumbled.

“YOUR MUM IS EASY!” he yelled back.

Okay. That one counted.

“FINE! REMIND ME TO MARK IT DOWN LATER, OKAY? I’M HAVING A MOMENT!” I hollered back.

“GOTCHA!” Cal yelled. “I’M GOING TO BED! DON’T WAKE ME WHENEVER YOU DECIDE TO COME IN, OKAY?”

I rolled my eyes. “OKAY!”

“LOVE YOU!”

“LOVE YOU TOO!” I yelled, turning back to Jack. “Anyway, you were saying?”

He blinked at me a few times. “Um… anyway. My pops used to say that shooting stars were a soul going to heaven.”

“Hmm. I like that,” I said. “It’s morbid. Are we supposed to wish on it?” I asked.

I suddenly realized how close we were standing. I hope he wasn’t going to try and kiss me. Yes, I already have aids at this point, but I’m still not quite sure what my relationship status with Cal is. Would that be cheating on him? Would my love just be a lie? lie? lie? Thankfully, instead of kissing me, he said, “Why? What would you wish for?”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmz,” I said, still standing dangerously close to me. Dangerous because I was wearing a lot of jewelry at the moment and I knew how much he loved to steal and then barter. “Idk. I have everything that money can buy.”

He sighed. “Still a rich bitch.”

I scoffed. “Just because I spend one night in the slums doesn’t make me poor, Jack!”

“I know, I know,” he groaned.

“ANYWAY,” I said, backing away before he could do something crazy like rape me. And then steal my jewels. “This has been grand. Thanks for showing me around the slums and letting me drink stale beer and almost break my toes off; you’ll let me know if you ever find my shoes, yeah?”

“Of course,” he said, though I knew his fingers were crossed behind his back. That bitch was going to sell my shoes.

“KBYE!” I said, grabbing his arm and forcing him to high five me. That’s right. No goodbye kisses here, Jack Dawson! Then I scurried off across the border.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! We look forward to hearing your feedback =) Let us know what you liked or hated! I promise, any feedback is good feedback. We're kiiiiiind of feedback sluts. Seriously.


	4. Part Four

The next day, I had tea with Cal. While I stirred my sugar into my tea, I looked up to find him glaring at me like crazy. He was _pist._ What was his prob?

“I hoped you would come to me last night,” he said, glaring some more. “I even said, ‘Come.’ But you didn’t.”

“Oh, _that._ Bitch, I was just tired.”

“Your excursions below decks were no doubt exhausting.”

“One for Cal!” I said, making a mark by his name. “Good job!” But he didn’t smile. “Srsly, bro, I was tired. Those third-class bitches don’t even have an elevator. I had to walk up and down a million flights of stairs and it was crap. Utter crap.”

“You are not to behave like that again, Rose, do you understand?”

“Bitch what? What is your prob?”

“I just…” Cal sighed. “Last night Jenkins did a PowerPoint presentation on Jack’s ‘Make it Count’ speech, and it was really eye-opening. There was a whole slide about Jack’s interactions with you during the speech, and it was all just overwhelming. Idk how to say this, but… as Gavin DeGraw would say, _you were just friends. At least that’s what you said! Now I know better… from his fingers in your hair,”_ he said, pointing at my lustrous curls.

I used my fugly hand mirror to take a look, and sure enough, there were some fleas jumping around in my hair. I used my fugly butterfly clip to comb them out and then looked up at Cal. “Bitch, Jack and I are just friends!”

“AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT YOU SAID!” Cal shouted. “NOW I KNOW BET--”

“Oh my god, I get it.”

“Maybe you’ll get it if I switch to another song. _I’m a jealous guy; I hear people talk. And it isn’t hard to believe--I think you cheated on me.”_

“But I didn’t! The truth is, I care about Jack.”

“Then _what_ is the _difference?”_

“The difference? The difference is I _love_ you, Cal, sorta. I want to be with you, _not_ Jack, well, kind of, except he’s got this whole poverty chic thing going on, and I’m really into it, because he doesn’t have peeled oranges or American cheese and there’s something so refreshing about his homeless outlook on life. But srsly, I’m all about you, ish.”

“But why?” Cal pleaded. “I need to know _why._ ”

“Because you… kink your eyebrow, when you’re trying to be cute?”

“Bitch what? No I don’t. You know my eyebrows are just two tiny wigs.”

“Because you quote Camus even though I’ve never actually seen you read?”

“You’ve seen me read! We’re in a book club together!”

Damn it, that’s true.

“Because we’re both gonna get pneumonia,” I said. “But if you need to hear why I love you… I can go on all night.”

“Then… keep going. We have plenty of time.”

“Oh. Alright. I thought that was pretty romantic, but… okay. Because… because I’m your fiancee!” I tried.

Cal did a double-take and then started blinking a lot, which is never a good sign. If he blinks too much his eyelash wigs fall off. “My f--my fi… my fi…”

“Sound it out,” I said. “It’s okay.” He doesn’t speak French as fluently as I do.

“My fi--my fiancee? MY FIANCEE?” Cal stood up and tossed aside the table. “Yes you are, and my WIFE!” He came closer and leaned over me in my chair. “My wife in practice if not by law, by which I mean we do it on the regular, so you will honor me. You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor a husband, by which I mean blow jobs on my birthday. I will not be made a fool of, Rose. Is this in any way unclear?”

“No,” I fabbed, trembling in my boots, except I wasn’t wearing boots. “I mean, you could have pronounced ‘fiancee’ a little better, but that was good. That was fine.”

I waited for Cal to smile or throw me a bone, but he didn’t. He just walked to the door. He paused to turn around and then said, “As Gavin Degraw once sang… _I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done, if you say that I’m the one. I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done… if you say that I’m the one.”_ Then he left.

“Ohhhhh!” I gasped when he left the room.

“Aw, shit,” Trudy said. Trudy’s my maid. Or the ship’s maid. I’m not really sure whether I brought her here or if she works for White Star Line. She just kind of is. “Rose, you dumbass.” She scurried over to the fallen table and knelt down to pick up all the broken dishes.

“We had an--accident,” I sobbed, getting up.

“Whatever, Rose, it’s alright, just stay put.”

“I reached for the marmalade at the same time that he reached for the cream, and then our heads knocked together, so we accidentally spilled the dishes and knocked the table over. A total mishap. Oh how we laughed,” I wept.

“I’ve literally been in this room the whole time, but alright, sure, that’s what happened.”

I knelt down and tried to pick up the pieces. “Sorry, Trudy. Let me help you,” I said, handing her a fallen flower for no reason.

“It’s alright, girl. And this shit is not helping, so cut it out.”

Dramatically I leaned back, bumping against the chair behind me as I continued to sob.

Later, to thank Trudy for being a real pal, I let her lace my corset for a little treat.

“So Trudy. Trudes. Who signs your paychecks?” I asked.

“I don’t know, miss. I have direct deposit.”

“Srsly? In 1912? That’s a thing?”

“Must be, if I have it.”

At that moment Mother came in and sucked all the fun out of the room.

“Tea, Trudy.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trudy scurried off. Didn’t we just have tea? We literally just came from having tea. Or was that brekkie? I tried to think back to whether I’d heard the tea bugle or the breakfast flute. All our meals just run together into a blur of food and deliciousness. I’m so fucking well fed. I hate my life.

“Turn around, bitch,” Momma said, twirling her finger around to imitate the action of me turning around. Because asking me to turn around wasn’t enough. Apparently we needed sign language as well.

“Did you know that Trudy has direct de--”

“No small talk!” Momma said, cutting me off.

I frowned, grabbing onto the bed post as she started lacing up my corset. Unlike Trudy, she was rough. At one point, she put her foot on my back to get the leverage she needed to really cut off my circulation. “Um, mother, I kind of can’t breathe.”

“I SAID NO SMALL TALK!” she said, whipping me with the laces of my corset. I cried a bit. She called Trudy back in so that she could pull one side and Trudy could pull the other, to make sure every bit of my fat was tucked in. “If we’re going to talk about anything, Rose, it’s going to be about our _situation.”_

“What situation?” I croaked out, struggling to get my breath.

“The po situation.”

“Mother--”

“You’re not to see that filth again, Rose. Do you understand me?”

I did not understand her. “I don’t understand you--”

“ROSE! I FORBID IT!” she said, stringing the laces of my corset through the pulley system she had Lovejoy install. Then she and Trudes grabbed onto the rope and pulled as hard as they could, tightening my corset that much more. “That boy is filthy and poor! And greasy! Do you want to be with a greasy filthy poor boy for the rest of your life, hmm? Do you want to constantly be slipping because of the all the residual grease he leaves everywhere?” she asked, just as the backhoe was reversing into the room. 

Trudy made quick work of wrapping the end of the rope around the backhoe then slapped the side of it twice, signaling for it to start driving away. My corset tightened some more. “Oh, stop it, Mother. You’ll give yourself a nosebleed,” I said sassily, generally unaffected by the constricting in my chest. This wasn’t as bad as that one time that Mother threw me over the side of the bridge, using my corset strings as a bungee cord, to make sure it was as tight as could be.

“This is not a game,” Mother said, spinning me around and speaking directly at me. “I know my reference of greasy made you believe I was talking about a game, but I am not and this is not. This is real life, Rose. This is srs business. Our situation is precarious! You know the money’s gone.”

“Of course I know it’s gone.” I rolled my eyes. “You remind me every day.”

“Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That _name,_ DeWitt Bukater, is the only card we have left to play! Don’t you understand? Even the fat man said it at dinner last night, life’s a game of luck! LUCK. CARDS. DON’T YOU SEE WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY HERE?”

“Not really… are you saying it is a game now?”

“I don’t understand you! It’s a _fine_ match with Hockley! It will ensure our survival!”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “First you said it wasn’t a game, now you’re talking about cards and luck and stuff. What game are we playing?”

Mother stared at me for a long time. She wasn’t blinking. Maybe she was having a stroke. Before I could call an ambulance, she finally spoke up again. “Do you want to see me working as a seamstress? As a janitor at the high school? As the drive thru lady at McDonalds? Is that what you want? To see our fine things sold at auction? Everything we own would be auctioned off to people we know. Your fugly hand mirror. This corset. That backhoe that Trudy and I just borrowed from Mr. Andrews but have no intention of returning. All of our memories scattered to the wind--” Then she started ugly crying.

I sighed, staring at the back of her head as she ugly cried away from me. A few minutes passed and she was still crying. I knew I had to wait for her to stop so that we could finish our conversation, but frankly I was getting quite bored.

_Hey hey you you I don’t like your girlfriend_ I sang in my head, nodding along subtly to the beat. Gah, this bitch was still crying.

I watched as she dropped dramatically to her knees, pounding her fists on the floor. “WHY, GOD, WHY?!” she exclaimed, raising her fists in the air and shaking them towards the ceiling.

Just then, Mr. Andrews poked his head in through the door and politely said, “Sorry but, um, I actually have nothing to do with this. Thank you for your feedback, though. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“Oh. My b,” Mother said.

“You look lovely, Rose.” Mr. Andrews smiled kindly at me.

I blushed. I was in my skivvies.

Once Mr. Andrews closed the door, mother began ugly crying again. This bitch was so dramatic sometimes. She must have been waiting for me to say something, because she just kept blubbering on the floor. I kneeled down next to her (which was _amazing_ considering how tight my corset was) and patpatpatted her back.

She blew a snot bubble.

I winced. “Gross.”

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Then she went back to crying.

Knowing I had to say something, I gave her what she wanted to hear. “Our lives are so unfair. Being rich is so hard, you know?”

“Of course it’s unfair!” she snapped, jumping up and kicking me over. “We’re _women._ Our choices are never easy! Feminism _isn’t_ a thing yet, Rose! Don’t you know a fucking thing?!” I rolled my eyes at her antics and she did not like that. She dragged me over to the table that was set up in the corner of the room, just so she could flip it over.

“Srsly?” I asked, watching as the table flipped and broke everything that had been on top of it. “That’s the second table that’s been flipped on me today. What is this? Flip Table day? Was I not fucking _aware?_ Did I miss the _memo?”_

“Idk why _you’re_ bitching,” Trudy grumbled as she pushed past me. _“I’m_ the one that has to clean this shit up. Twice.”

“Bitch? Were we talking to you?” Mother said, ready to kill a bitch.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Trudy whispered, knowing her role. Remembering feminism. Even though Mr. Andrews hadn’t created that yet. Mother dragged me away from Trudy, mumbling about needing new minions, and made me stand where I was before. She smiled sadly at me and leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“What was that for? Are we good now?” I asked, confused.

“Idk.” She shrugged.

“.......iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” Then she turned me back around and continued lacing up my corset, as if nothing had happened. I stared off into the ocean for a bit, damming my life and all my money, until she was finally done.

Just then we heard the church oboe signaling that church was about to begin, and we all filed into the church… room. Idk. It wasn’t an actual church. I don’t know if God is counting this as church time.

I took my place in my pew (or… whatever) and watched as Cappy stepped to the front of the room.

“Hi guys. So… as cappy of the ship I’m supposed to lead you in a song. But I don’t know any hymns because they’re boring. So I picked a song I like, and I think it’s pretty relevant to church. So if you could all follow along in the hymn books I’ve had printed up--everyone on the left, please sing the lyrics in the top row. Everyone on the right, please sing the lyrics on the bottom row.”

We all turned to the first page.

“But these lyrics aren’t in English,” Mother protested.

“Just do what I do when I find a hard word and sound it out. Ready? One, two, three…”

“Hum a nah dah hum a nah ba nah duh,” my side sang in confusion and uncertainty. “Hum a nah dah hum a nah ba nah duh. Hum a nah dah hum a nah ba nah duh. Hum a nah dah hum a nah ba nah duh.”

“Now right side, you come in,” Cappy directed.

“From the day we arrive on the planet,” sang the right side, “and blinking, step into the sun.” Cappy beamed with joy. His vision was coming to life.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~**

I sauntered down the first-class staircase like I owned the place. Which is pretty much true considering how much I’ve stolen.

“Hey, Mr. Andrews,” I greeted Mr. A when I passed him on the step. Mr. A was busy writing in his journal. It looked like he was inventing HDTV, whatever that is.

“Hello, Jack,” said Mr. A. “You missed one.” He pointed at something behind me.

I turned around and noticed that I’d forgotten to take one of the decorative metal awnings from the banister. I was planning to have them melted down. Idk what I’ll do with a bunch of melted metal, but people always seem to melt things down for money in movies. And by “movies” I mean the nickelodeon I saw that one time. A lot happened in that nickelodeon.

“Thanks, Mr. A!” I said, grabbing the awning and putting it in my pocket. Then I slid the rest of the way down the banister because, like I said, I own this whole goddamn ship now.

As I approached the doors to the church room, I was accosted by two stewards.

“Sir,” said one of them, sounding incredibly bored, “you can’t go in there.”

“Just for one second,” I protested. “I have to talk to Rose.”

“No, sir… don’t…” yawned the steward.

“I’m not filth, I promise! I was here just last night! Mansions, bank dividends, caviar!” Then Lovejoy burst through the doors. “He’ll tell you; he was there!”

“Bitch what?” Lovejoy said. “I work for Rose’s fiance. You srsly think I’m going to help you seduce my boss’ fiancee?”

“Well… kind of?”

“Bitch please. However, Mr. Hockley and Ms. DeWitt Bukater appreciate your assistance, and they ask me to give you this in gratitude.” He pulled two twenty-dollar bills from his pockets like a pro.

“Oh my gah!” I said, grabbing the bills and holding them up to the light. I didn’t know what I was looking for, never having seen one in real life, but again, they did it in the nickelodeon. I really got my money’s worth with that one. “TWO TWENTIES! If this were 2015, this would be worth $944.28! OH MY GAH! But I don’t want your money, sir,” I said, pocketing the money. “I just want to talk to Rose.”

“They would also like to remind you that you hold a third-class ticket and your visitor’s badge has expired. Gentlemen,” he said, shaking the stewards awake, “please see that Mr. Dawson gets back where he belongs--and that he stays there.” He handed them each a twenty. Oh my GAH, how many does he HAVE?

The stewards each grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away. I turned to look behind me, first to give Lovejoy the stinkeye, then to give him my resume because, idk, if any opportunities should open up, I’d love to earn some twenties. And then I looked back one last time, searching for Rose.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“And then,” Cappy said, “I’m going to hold up this baby Simba doll, and when I do, everyone needs to stop singing because the song will be over, and then, if this were the movie, the Lion King title card would appear. But it’s not. So we’ll just have to pretend. Ready?” he asked.

We all nodded obediently.

“From the gasm,” Cappy directed, and then we started singing.

“In the CIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRCLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE… the cirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcleeeeeeeeeeeeee… of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!” we sang. Cappy held up the Simba doll, and we all stopped singing, but at different times. It didn’t sound as cool as Cappy wanted it to sound.

Cappy sighed. “Well… that was better. From the top.”

Le sigh.

**~*~*~*~Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

_I WAS FUCKING RICH!!!!!!!!!!_

I skipped my way back to the slums, forgetting why I even went up there in the first place considering how _fucking rich_ I am now! I was tempted to go to the badging office and demand a first class room now that I was New Money.

Anyway, I happily skipped down the hall towards my room, _$40.11_ safely hidden in my shoe, and once I finally arrived I kicked the door open like Mom would have. After all, I could afford to replace it if I broke it. “FABBY!” I called. “FABBY, OH FABBY, WHEREFORE ART THOU, FABBY?”

“Pasta carrabba?” he asked, sitting up from his top bunk (that he _stole_ from me. But whatev).

“REMEMBER WHEN I SAID WE WERE THE LUCKIEST SONS OF BITCHES IN THE WORLD?” I exclaimed, slamming the door shut and grinning wildly at my little Italian friend.

Fabby shrugged. “Ziti!”

I rolled my eyes at his forgetfulness. That damn tumor. We couldn’t afford to see a doctor (UNTIL NOW) but we had always just assumed his memory problem was a poverty tumor growing somewhere in the depths of his zesty brain. “How do you not remember?” I chastised. “That was literally two days ago. Two days, Fabby. Have you been playing your memory games?”

“Tehehehehehehe, I a-lost them to de Irish man! Italian BMT sub from Subway!” he said, in broken English. “Hes uh, ehm, how you say, selling them for-a smokes!”

I gasped. “You let Tommy sell your _memory games_ for _smokes?_ Those are important for your mental health!”

Fabby cackled. “My pi-zza pie!”

I sighed. “First thing I’m gonna buy you is a copy of Rosetta Stone. Your English is despicable. Me. Despicable Me. Like the movie. Except you’re the only one despicable here.”

“Eh?”

“OH! I forgot to tell you!” I gasmed. “I’M FUCKING RICH!”

His eyes lit up like a little boy on Christmas (not that either of us had ever celebrated. Because we were poor, not for religious reasons. Though my father was half Jewish). “EH?!?!?”

“I HAVE THE 2015 EQUIVALENT OF $944.39 IN MY LEFT SHOE RIGHT NOW!”

“LUIGI! WALUIGI! MARIO! WARIO!” Fabby started gasming in Italian. He jumped off the bunk bed and we began jumping around while embracing each other. “GIORGIO ARMANI!!!”

“ENGLISH, FABBY!” I exclaimed in the midst of our gasms, jumping and twirling and pulling each other’s hair.

“I GO TO AMERICAAAAAAAAAAA!” he gasmed. “STATUE OF LIBERTY! VERY SMALL, OF COURSE!”

Oh, Fabby.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

Meanwhile, the whole gang and I were on a tour of the ship, courtesy of Mr. Andrews. Even Cappy had been woken up early from his nap to tag along and show us every little detail of the ship.

“And if you look over here,” Cappy said, stifling a yawn. “You see the, um… parts and stuff that make, um… that thing over there”--he pointed towards the ship’s wheel--“do its… thing? Ugh, I don’t remember what that does, Mr. A!” Cappy said, stomping his foot on the ground.

“Think, EJ.” Mr. Andrews smiled fondly at him. “Remember the anagram I taught you?”

“YES!” Cappy exclaimed. “YES I DO! THE WIGGLES STARTS AT SEVEN! T.W.S.A.S.! THE WHEEL STEERS A SHIP!”

“Good job, buddy!” Mr. Andrews exclaimed, producing a small wrapped caramel from his pocket and handing it to Cappy as his reward. “I knew you had it in you.” He turned to look at us. “He really is learning everything so quickly! He studies his list of anagrams every night before bed, isn’t that right, EJ?”

“Mm-hmm.” Cappy nodded, biting his bottom lip as he focused on unwrapping the sweet. “After the Wiggles.”

Mr. A smiled fondly at him again, tussling Cappy’s hair a bit before turning back to us with a proud smile. Suddenly Minion #19 appeared with a note in his hand. He waited until Cappy was done unwrapping his caramel and throwing the trash away (“In the _bin,_ EJ! Not the ground!” Mr. A had said, rolling his eyes lovingly) before handing Cappy the note.

“Another ice warning, sir. This one’s from the Noordam.”

“Mm-hmm,” Cappy said, sucking happily on his sweet, staring down at the note in his hand with a confused expression. A few minutes passed, while Cappy’s was silently mouthing along with his reading, before he must have realized we were all watching him.

**~*~*~*~Cappy’s POV~*~*~*~**

WTF WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION?

I then remembered my Cheat Sheet that Mr. A had left as part of my “Welcome Aboard!” package in my room (next to my engraved sippy cups!!!!). On page seven of the cheat sheet was a list of key phrases that I had to memorize in case a situation like this ever came up.

I cleared my throat and made direct eye contact with Rose. “Oh, not to worry. Quite normal for this time of year.” I instantly flicked my eyes over to Mr. A, who nodded approvingly. I turned my focus back to Rose, expecting to see relief wash over her, since that phrase was apparently supposed to calm people down.

But she didn’t look like she was having it.

I put on my brightest big boy smile and continued smiling at her until someone changed the subject.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Was it just me, or did that sound scripted as fuck?

**~*~*~*~*~Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

“So you a-go after her, no?” Fabby asked in English after saying it in Italian three times first.

“Wtf? Why would I do that? Didn’t you hear me? I’m _rich_ , bro.”

“But she-a um, erhhhmm, how you say, make your penis hard?”

“Well, yes,” I agreed, nodding. “That’s true. But… I could just buy us hookers with all this money I have.”

Fabby frowned. “Ehhhmmm Jack, you um… I no want you to ahmmmm… rich bitch?”

I sighed. “I’m not gonna become a rich bitch, Fabz. And even if I did, _so what?_ We’ve been poor motherfuckers our WHOLE LIVES. Don’t we deserve something good in this world? FOR ONCE? We’re the luckiest sons of bitches, remember!”

“You know, I really don’t appreciate you referring to my mother as a bitch. I’d actually like if you’d stop saying that. Just because I struggle with the English language on occasion doesn’t mean I don’t comprehend what you’re saying, Jack. So please, out of respect for me and my mother, stop saying that. Is that fair?” Fabby asked.

I blinked a few times, “Wow… that was--that was beautiful, Fabby! You didn’t have an accent or anything!”

“Tehehehehehe, lasagna!!!!!”

I sighed loudly. He’s lucky he’s my bestie.

So then we were walking the decks with Tommy, trying to figure out how I was going to sneak across the border to talk to Rose. We had dug a hole in the floorboards underneath our bunkbeds and hidden my $40.11 in it. Walking around in the slums with that kind of money on you, well, that was just asking to be raped and killed.

For now we would keep it a secret.

Anyway, so we were walking and analyzing and drawing maps on pieces of scrap paper we had dug out of a trash can, trying to think of our best plan on getting across the border. “Why don’t you just request another visitor's badge, boy-o?” Tommy asked, smoking a stolen ciggy as we walked along the slum decks.

“Because,” I sighed, “you’re only allowed one every 72 hours. Politics.”

“Typical,” Tommy said, chuckling his Irish chuckle. “How are ye climbing legs, then?”

“Eh, they ain’t that bad considering I’m highly lacking in calcium. Even though I had an actual dinner last night and a bowl full of mints just now in my room before we came out here to meet you.”

“You could always just scale up the side of the ship! And crawl over the railing!”

“GORGONZOLA!” Fabby exclaimed happily, clearly agreeing with what Tommy had to say.

I nodded, agreeing with these poor bitches. “Iite. Gimme a boost!”

They boosted me up to the rich bitch part of the ship like good lads. I climbed over the rail discreetly. I was prepared to speak Rich if anyone looked at me funny, but the only two men around were focused on watching a little boy spin a top on a string, and I shit you not, the men were fucking _fascinated_ by it. What the fuck ev.

I took that opportunity to grab a coat and hat, right in front of them, since they were busy jollily talking to each other about the spinning top. I figured I might as well take advantage of the situation, so I also stole the deck chair that the coat and hat had been lying on. Idk what I’ll do with it, but it has to be worth something. I continued on my mission, dragging the deck chair behind me as I walked. I put on the hat and slicked down my hair with some hair gel. And by “hair gel” I mean I licked my hand and then rubbed said hand along said hair, like a cat. Rose deserved me at my best.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“And here we have the lifeboats,” Mr. Andrews was saying. “There are 20 lifeboats on this ship, by the way… 14 of them can carry 65 passengers, four of them can carry 47 passengers, and two of them can carry 40 passengers. Isn’t that interesting?”

We stared at him blankly.

“So if we were to do the math,” Mr. Andrews continued, pulling out his travel blackboard and his travel chalk, “that’s enough to seat 1,178 passengers.” He drew a picture of a lifeboat and then wrote **1,178** over it. Then he turned around and looked at us, a patient smile on his face.

We all nodded.

“Well done,” Cal said to fill the silence.

“And there are 2,201 passengers on board.” Mr. Andrews drew a perfect replica of the Titanic, and above it he wrote **2,201.** “So…” He pointed at the 1,178 number, then at the 2,201 number. “Lifeboats for this many.... and this many passengers. What do you think about that?”

“That’s a nice drawing,” Cappy said.

Mr. Andrews smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, EJ.”

I don’t know what it was, but something didn’t quite sit right with me about that. Even after Mr. Andrews folded up his blackboard and resumed the tour, I remained deep in thought. Enough lifeboats for 1,178 people… and 2,201 people on the ship. 1,178… 2,201… 1,178… 2,201...

And then it came to me. “Mr. Andrews--forgive me. I’m so sorry for even bringing this up, seeing as how I’m worthless and you are the smartest, best man in all the history of the world. But… I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned--again, please forgive me; I’m sorry for questioning your authority, your majesty--but… it seems that there are not enough lifeboats for everyone aboard.”

Mr. Andrews looked at me, beaming with joy. “About half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you?”

I smiled. “I am pretty smart.”

“In fact,” he continued, “I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here, inside this one. But it was thought… by _some,_ by which I mean Bruce Ismay… that the deck would look too _cluttered._ So I was overruled. Oh, that Bruce Ismay. He’ll be the death of me,” he chuckled. “And everyone.”

“Waste of deck space as it is on an unsinkable ship!” Cal said, rapping one of the lifeboats with his cane. Idk why he has a cane. He must not know why either if all he does is go around hitting lifeboats with it.

“Sleep soundly, young Rose,” Mr. Andrews said. “I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She’s all the lifeboat you need, ish. Just keep heading aft,” he directed the group ahead. “No, EJ, you silly tyke, ‘aft’ means toward the stern!”

I was following _after_ them (haha, me. I need to remember to tell that one to Mr. Andrews. Maybe he’ll be proud of me some more) when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I didn’t need to turn around to find out who it was because the smell of filth told me all I needed to know.

“Come on,” Jack said. I looked at Mr. Andrews far ahead, and he had nearly disappeared from view. I didn’t want to leave the tour! I was his star pupil!

But Jack guided me into the rich bitch gym. "Stay there," he said, and he left the room. When he came back a few moments later, he was dragging a deck chair behind him. "Ignore this. It's just the chair I've always had."

“Jack,” I said, “this is impossible. I can’t see you. You smell terrible and now we’re indoors. At least there was a breeze outside.”

“I need to talk to you!” he said. Then I saw him start to take off his hat.

“No, Jack, no! Leave it on!” Ohhhh, he took it off. Fleas began jumping off his head to the floor, my dress, my perfect cleavage… damn it. Alright, time to cut the chase. “Jack… I’m engaged. I’m marrying Cal. I love Cal. We have a point system. It’s cute.”

Jack just looked at me. “Rose… you’re no picnic, alright? You’re a spoiled little brat even.”

“Well, you smell and you’re poor. Take that.”

“But… under that… you’re the most amazingly... astounding… wonderful girl--”

The door creaked open and Cora stepped into the room. She narrowed her eyes at me, then gave Jack a sad, wide-eyed stare with her enormous shit-brown eyes.

_“Woman,”_ Jack clarified. “You’re still my best girl, Cora.”

She looked smugly over at me, and I sneered right back at her.

“Excuse you, shit-browns, we’re having a _moment_ here,” I said. Cora ran off, and then the mood was kind of ruined. “Jack, I--”

“Let me try and get this out!” Jack pleaded. “You’re--you’re ama--” He sighed, then started again. “I’m not an idiot. I know how the world works. I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket--”

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

She doesn’t need to know it’s $40.11 and that it’s actually in my shoe. I’m not giving up my hiding places. I’m a rich bitch now; she could just be after me for my money.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“--I have nothing to offer you, and I know that. I understand. But I’m too involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? Do you remember that? From two days ago? You were about to kill yourself, and I stopped you, and that kind of makes me your lord and savior now? I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be alright. Thats all that I wanted.”

“Well, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Really. I got this. It’s koo.”

“Really?” he asked. “I don’t think so.”

“Did I stutter?”

“They’ve got you trapped, Rose! And you’re gonna die if you don’t break free.”

“Bitch what? Is that a threat? Are you gonna kill me?” I asked, clutching my pearls.

“Maybe not right away because you’re strong, but… sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Rose… that fire’s going to burn out.”

“Oh my god, what are you going to do to me? Is that a metaphor for you killing me? Are you trying to win me over or murder me? I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you.”

“No, bitch! I’m trying to save you!” He put his hand on my cheek. Ohhhhhh, the germs...

“It’s not up to you to save me, Jack.”

“You’re right. Only you can do that.”

“Daaaaaaaaamn,” Cal said, popping his head into the room. “That was a good line. That was a smooth move. I don’t approve of any of this,” he said, pointing at Jack and me with his cane, “but that was a good line. Rose, Mr. Andrew wants you back with the group. There’s going to be a pop quiz.”

“I’m going back,” I told Jack, putting my (thankfully) gloved hand over his. I held it for a bit, because I was already tainted anyway, and it really was a good line. I kind of wanted Jack to save me now. But finally I moved his hand away from my cheek and scooted away from the window. “Leave me alone.”

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~***

I watched Rose walk out of my life, and then I was left alone in the rich bitch gym. Forlornly I put my hand on the window and peered through the glass as she passed by.

Le sigh. Maybe I should have told her about the $40.11.

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I knew Jack was watching me as I walked away, all emo-like through the glass, so I made a show of swaying my hips as I headed towards the classroom where the pop quiz would be given. I began to think back about everything Jack had just said; had he just told me he loved me? That sure did come out of left field.

I mean, yeah, we had a decent time together during our role play night, but LOVE?

And why did he deliver his love in the form of a threat? I didn’t want my internal fire to burn out, either. That’s what _everybody_ loved about me. I’m very desirable. So then I got to the classroom and took my seat at one of the desks in the back, next to Cappy.

Mr. Andrews stood by his chalkboard at the front, addressing the class and explaining life. “You’ll have twenty minutes to take the quiz,” he said. “If you were all paying attention, and did the homework last night, you shouldn’t run into any problems! I’ll be watching the whole time, so no cheating!”

“Darn it,” Cappy whispered.

“Don’t forget to write your name and date at the top!” Mr. Andrews said, smiling brightly. “I hope everyone brought a pencil!”

“Shit,” I whispered, looking frantically in my purse for some sort of writing device. I didn’t know pencils weren’t gonna be provided! I waited until Mr. Andrews wasn’t looking before I leaned over towards Cappy. “Hey, Cap, you got an extra pencil?” I whispered.

Cappy nodded excitedly before pulling out his Blues Clues pencil case. He carefully unzipped the pouch and dug his greedy little hand inside, fumbling around for a second before retrieving one of his novelty pencils. “Mr. A bought these for me when he took me to see the Wiggles live on Broadway!” Cappy excitedly whispered, handing me a pencil with the red Wiggle’s face on it. “I also got a calendar! It’s taped to the wall next to my bed.” He smiled proudly.

“You’re so cute,” I said, booping his nose. Then I started my test.

**Name:** Rose DeWitt Bukater  
**Date:** April 14 1912____

__**Question 1:** In the event of a disaster, how many people would not have a seat on a lifeboat?  
1, 985  
1, 023  
800  
All of the above 

I crossed one ankle over the other, tapping my Murray pencil against the desk as I read the question again. I thought back to Mr. Andrew’s drawing, visualizing the pictures and numbers he had drawn out on his travel chalk board. Then, just like before, I did the sum in my head and realized the correct answer was B.

I’m nailing this quiz already.

I’m so fucking smart.

Good thing I, unlike the filth who lived in the slums of this ship, was able to go to school and learn math and whatnot.

__**Question 2:** True or False: Bruce Ismay built the Titanic.  
True. Everything about this ship was thought up by Bruce. He even helped bang in the rivets during production.  
FUCKING FALSE. His name is associated with it, but it was all Mr. Andrews’ idea and hard work. 

I eagerly circled B and smiled up at Mr. Andrews when he walked past by my desk. He was circling the room slowly to make sure everybody was focusing.

_**Question 3:** The cure for AIDS is...?_

I stopped reading, pissed off at Jack for making me miss this portion of the tour. Had I not been getting fleas with Jack in the rich bitch gym, I would have heard Mr. Andrews tell us about the cure for AIDS. This information would particularly come in handy, considering I was sure to have AIDS by now after all my time spent in the slums. I waited until Mr. Andrews was busy explaining something to Cal at the front of the room, before leaning over and whispering to Cappy. “Can I borrow your notes?”

Cappy began to cry. The stress was getting to him. “I--I didn’t know there’d be a test,” he choked out. “Test days are-are Tuesday’s and _it’s not Tuesday!”_ he sobbed. “I know because I just crossed out Thursday on my calendar last night. Which makes today _Friday!_ Friday is not test day! It’s _not!”_

“Poor thing,” I whispered, comfortingly patting his shoulder before going back to my test. Clearly he didn’t know what _pop quiz_ meant. Mr. Andrews must have heard Cappy’s cries because he quickly made his way back over to us, crouching down beside Cappy and pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket.

“Don’t cry, EJ,” he whispered at him. “You’ll be just fine. You _know_ this stuff! I know you do!” This didn’t seem to help because Cappy continued to cry. “You wanna know how I know?” he whispered, clearly intending his words only to be heard by Cappy. But I was a nosey bitch with big ears.

“H-How?” Cappy sobbed, lip quivering.

“Because,” Mr. Andrews whispered, smiling brightly. “You’re my _best_ boy.”

**~*~*~*~*~Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

So then I was at the front of the ship, damming my life and everything in it. I was lounging in my newly acquired deck chair, staring out at the ocean (literally) and being in an overall state of depression. This was supposed to be the best day of my life! Today was the day that everything was going to change!

I had $40.11!

I had overheard the cure for AIDS!

They were serving ramen noodles at dinner tonight!

Life was supposed to be fucking _grand_ now. But… Rose didn’t want me. I’m not quite sure why I wanted her so bad, considering she was kind of a cunt, but… have you seen her rack? It was pretty fantastic. I was one of the luckiest sons of bitches in the world! (No offense, momma. I didn’t realize how offensive that statement was until Fabby educated me.) But here I was, on the best day of my life, trying to hold back my blackies while I looked out at the ocean.

I got up from my lounge chair, who I had named Ralph, and propped myself up at the railing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dolphin jumping along side of the boat. Normally this would have made my erection boing, but today… it made my eyes sting with blackies. Life was so unfair.

I turned up the volume of my iPod that I had stolen on my way here to try and make myself feel better (it didn’t help) and let the depressing music overtake my soul.

“And I’ve lost who I am, and I can’t understand why my heart is so broken, _rejecting your love,”_ I sang along, completely off key considering I had two pairs of headphones in. I have also never had a voice lesson before. “Without love gone wrong, lifeless words carried on”--my voice cracked as the gasm was building--“but I know, all I know, that the end’s beginning who I am, from the start, take me home to my heart.”

A single man tear of pain rolled down my cheek.

Maybe I should just pull a Rose and kill myself. As the gasm continued to build in my ears, I thought about climbing over the railing and looking down at the ocean from there.

I obviously wouldn’t jump, because that’s absurd, but it felt like something I should do in this moment.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

__**Question 14:** How many watertight bulkheads must be breached before the ship will begin to sink?  
3  
4  
5  
None of the above. This ship is unsinkable. God himself could not sink this ship. 

I sighed quietly to myself, leaning back in my chair and blinking down at my test. I was no longer into this. How was I supposed to focus on these questions when I was trying to decide whether or not I had any sort of romantical interest in Jack? I looked over at Cappy, who was still circling answers like a trooper even though he was softly crying, and I thought about how brave he was.

I waited until Mr. Andrews passed by again before quietly flipping my test over and writing out a pro/con list on the back. How else was I supposed to make my decision?

**PRO:**  
_He’s iight looking_  
He technically saved my life once  
He’s an Av fan.  
Kleptomaniac…? 

**CON:  
** _POVERTY!!!!!!!!!!_  
Aids  
Kleptomaniac  
Body odor 

“Rose? What do you think you’re doing?”

I gasped, looking up at Mr. Andrews. I had been so focused on my pro/con list that I hadn’t realized he was standing in front of me. “Oh, I was just um… leaning far over to see the um, the uh, umm…”

“Wiggles?” Cappy offered.

“Right! The Wiggles! And I--I slipped!”

Mr. Andrews blinked at me. “Get out of my classroom.”

“But--”

“OUT,” Mr. Andrews exclaimed, pointing angrily at the door. “I’m very disappointed in you Rose. I want a 500-word essay on what happened here on my desk by morning.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, gathering up my things and standing from my desk. I shoved everything inside my purse, stopping to push my chair under the desk when Mr. Andrews grabbed onto my arm.

“Does that pencil belong to you?”

“NO, IT DOES NOT!” Cappy yelled, crossing his arms over his chest. “MURRAY BELONGS TO ME! TO CAPPY! TO EJ CAPPY! THE CAPPY OF THIS SHIP. THE TITANIC. THE RMS TITANIC.”

“Oh--sorry! It--it was an accident!” I said, frantically digging my hand around in my purse looking for that damn pencil. “I was leaning far over to see the um, uhhh--HA! HERE IT IS!” I smiled proudly, handing Cappy his pencil back, which he angrily snatched out of my hand. I looked over at Mr. Andrews, who still looking disappointed at me, and then lowered my head as I turned and exited the classroom.

I sighed when I got outside. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe I was supposed to go to Jack.

Suddenly I heard the tea bugle sound. Again? Jesus Christ. I feel like we’ve had tea twice today already. All this caffeine is making me need to pee every ten minutes.

I sighed and trudged to tea. I sat down at my usual place with Mother, Countess Rothes, and Lady Duff-Gordon. Yes, really. A society lady married Duff Goldman from Ace of Cakes (obviously she doesn’t understand how hyphenated last names work). I asked Mother what the term for a rich lady who marries filth is, and she leaned over and murmured, “Charity.”

“I thought charity was a good thing,” I whispered back.

“Rose, have I taught you nothing? Giving money to filth is one thing. You put on gloves, shield your eyes so as not to make eye contact with them, and then hand the twenty over. But associating yourself with them is an entirely different matter.” She gave me a pointed look.

“But Chef Duff seems like a perfectly pleasant man! Yes, he can be crass, and his cakes never look delicious because they’re all covered in fondant, but--”

“I will hear no more of this!” she shrieked. Then, realizing that the ladies were eyeing her curiously, Mother cleared her throat and smiled demurely. “Have I told you what a nightmare it’s been to plan Rose’s wedding? Of course, the invitations had to be sent back to the printers twice. And the bridesmaids dresses! Let me tell you what an odyssey _that_ has been.”

I have bridesmaids?

Do I even _have_ any lady friends?

Maybe I could ask Trudy…

I sighed and looked around the room. Luckily there were no peeled oranges in sight, so I didn’t have to kill a bitch. At another table across the way, I spotted a little girl sitting with her mother, who was directing her every move.

“No, Sasha!” her mother yelled. “Your hand goes like this!”

“Like…” The girl lifted her hand and bent it backward a little.

Her mother corrected the positioning of her hand. “There,” she said, satisfied. “Here we go.” She pressed a button on her iPod and music started blaring.

__

__

All the single ladies (all the single ladies)  
All the single ladies (all the single ladies)  
All the single ladies (all the singles)  
All the single ladies  
Now put your hands up 

Sasha put her hand up and her mother groaned and paused the song. “Damn it, Sasha! It’s not that hard to do the Single Ladies dance! We haven’t even gotten to the first verse yet!”

Sasha turned red and looked down. “I’m sorry.”

As I watched Sasha’s mother instruct her further on the movements of the dance, I realized that here I was, mostly grown up, and I was still obeying _my_ mother. When would it end?

If James Cameron were writing my life as a script, he might say that I’m starting to understand the pain to becoming an Edwardian geisha. But that makes zero fucking sense, so we won’t go with that.

While my mother continued talking about the odyssey of bridesmaids (???), I looked over at Lady Duff-Gordon. “Hey,” I whispered. “Are you happy? With Chef Duff? Even though he’s poor and worthless?”

She shrugged. “I mean, there’s always cake, so, I guess? It’s covered in fondant most of the time, but I can just scrape that off.”

Well… maybe it won’t be so bad to be _charity_ to Jack. Lady Duff-Gordon seems okay with her sitch. I mean, she is required to wear a scarlet C on all of her dresses, but I kind of like it. I could tell people it stood for cunt and they could get off to my raunchiness.

Alright then. I’m taking Lady Duff-Gordon and little Sasha over there as my second and third signs today that I should be with Jack. Why not give it a go to see what charity is all about?

I guess I should probably go find him now that I’ve made this big life decision, but I wasn’t sure how to excuse myself. Mother was still talking about the odyssey. I suppose I could wait until she finishes and politely excuse myself, but I don’t have time for that shit.

I picked up my teacup and spilled the contents into my lap. “Oops, my b!” I giggled cutely. “I must be going!”

I stood up and began walking out of the room. Behind me, I could hear the song blaring, _If you liked it, then you shoulda put a ring on it._

Maybe I will put a ring on it, Beyonce. God knows he can’t afford one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thanks for reading!**


	5. Part Five

I stepped out onto the deck, wondering where Jack could be.

“Excuse me,” I said, stopping one of the minions as they walked past. “Have you seen that poor guy? The greasy blonde one? He might have been dragging a lounge chair with him?”

“Jack Dawson?” the minion asked.

“Yes, that’s the one!”

“He’s being emo on the front of the ship.”

“KAYTHANKS!” I replied before taking off in a run.

When I approached the bow of the ship, I saw a lonely, forlorn figure standing at the railings, looking at the ocean.

“Hello, Jack.”

He whipped his head around to look at me, eyes wide in shock and awe and amazement at my ravishing beauty.

“I changed my mind. I made a pro/con list and you won. You’ve won the game.” He just smiled and stared at me, so out of nervousness I added, “The minions said you’d be--”

“SHH. Give me your hand.”

Ohhhhhhhh. I looked down at the AIDS factory that was his hand. I still didn’t know the cure for AIDS, and after the stunt I pulled in Mr. Andrews’ classroom, I might not ever know. But looking down at his hand, I realized it didn’t matter anymore. I was going to go big or go home. And I was already going home to Philly. So. It was time to go big.

I took a deep breath and put my hand in his sweaty, oily, greasy, caked-with-dirt, never-known-soap hand. So this is what it’s like to have AIDS. He pulled me closer. “Close your eyes.”

What kind of kinky shit is this bitch into? Whatev. I could be into it too. Obediently I closed my eyes. I felt him get behind me. Oh. _Oh._ I could definitely be into this.

“Step up,” he said, and I obeyed. “Now hold onto the railing. Keep your eyes closed, don’t peek!”

Um. Is this bitch trying to get me to jump off the ship? He is trying to make my fire burn out, isn’t he? Because you know what burns out fire? You know what burns it out extremely well? THE OCEAN.

“Step up onto the railing,” Jack said again. Well, alright. This isn’t what I signed up for, but I made my choice and now I have to live with it. I stepped up further onto the railing. By this point I was standing precariously on some kind of bar, and holding on to some rope apparatus as the only thing keeping me falling to an icy death below.

“Hold on. Keep your eyes closed! Do you trust me?”

To kill me? Yes, you seem to be well on your way. “I trust you.”

Then he took my hand from the railing and spread my arms out like wings. Well. Ite. He wants me to die like Jesus. That’s kind of a compliment, actually.

“Okay,” Jack said, “open your eyes.”

I opened my eyes and gasped in surprise. Goodness! It was like I was a goose flying south for the winter! All I could see was the ocean as we sped over it, and the beautiful sun setting on the horizon. “I’m flying!” I exclaimed. “I’m a goose! Jack!"

Jack ran his hands down my arms until our hands and fingers and AIDS were intertwined. “I hate it when a guy doesn’t understand,” he softly sang in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin, “why a certain time of the month I don’t want to hold his hand. I hate it when they go out and we stay in, and they come home smelling like their ex-girlfriend.”

I giggled in an incredibly aroused fashion. Then he turned his head to look at me, and I looked at him, and we leaned in to kiss. His breath smelled like sardines and creamed corn, but I was so into it I didn’t care. We made out right there on the bow of the ship and all was right with the world. God himself could not sink our love.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~**

“And that was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight,” I said, looking at the group. “And this is when things get raunchy, so y’all are in for a treat.”

Brock jolted awake and changed the tape in his recorder. “So… we’re up to dusk on the night of the sinking. Six hours to go. Still no fucking mention of the necklace, but whatev.”

“Funny you mention that,” I said, “because in the next scene--”

“I can’t believe it!” Fatty exclaimed. “Smith is standing there with the iceberg warning in his motherfucking hand--” Then he looked over at me. “Excuse me, his fucking hand--and he’s ordering _more_ speed.”

“Don’t you hate on Cappy,” I said. “He was pressured into it. It was thought, _by some,_ that lighting the last four boilers would be a good idea. Do you not know who _some_ is by now? Have you been listening at all?”

“Twenty-six years of experience working against him,” Brock said, ignoring me like a little bitch. “He figures anything big enough to sink the ship they’re going to see in time to turn. But the ship’s too big, with too small a rudder.”

“MR. ANDREWS DID THE BEST HE COULD WITH THE TECHNOLOGY THAT WAS AVAILABLE AT THE TIME!” I bellowed. “Now everyone shut the fuck up. We are getting to a sexy scene and you’re gonna wanna listen to this shit.”

Brock held his hands up in surrender, and Fatty took a seat. Satisfied, I continued on.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“It’s quite proper, I assure you!” I chortled, leading Jack into my suite.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~**

Fatty stared blankly at me. “What’s quite proper?”

“Yeah,” said Brock, “you have to back all the way up to Jack’s poker game to tell me where a goddamn necklace is, but you have to start this scene in the middle of a conversation? Srsly?”

I rolled my eyes.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK 84 YEARS AND FIVE MINUTES*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Thank you for letting me fly,” I said to Jack breathlessly after we finished making out. “But can I get down from the rail now? It’s really hard to balance myself, and your erection isn’t helping.”

“Alright,” Jack said, helping me down. “What do you want to do now?”

“Hmm. Maybe you could draw my portrait since you’re an artist or something? Nothing crazy. Maybe like a caricature type deal? Maybe something like me wearing a funny hat? You know, just a normal drawing of a normal, clothed woman.”

“Ite! Where?”

“Now that I’m officially cheating on my fiance, I want to go somewhere he’ll never find us. What about our suite?”

Jack’s eyes lit up at the thought of all the stuff he could steal. “Sure!”

Holding hands, Jack and I walked along the deck, him pulling his chair along with us. Soon we arrived at the border. The barrier that had stood between our love last night.

“Can you cross it this time?” I asked.

Jack shrugged. “I mean… I’ve got ten bucks in my pocket as far as you and the rest of the world are aware. That’s way more than I had yesterday. Idk. I might be able to swing it.”

Together we stepped over the line. We waited for a moment, looking over our shoulders for hitmen or sirens or anything out of the ordinary.

“I think we’re safe,” I said. “The money censor must have detected the ten dollars in your pocket.”

“Yes…” Jack said, patting his pocket. I didn’t hear a ten-dollar bill, but I’m sure that’s just my ears playing tricks on me. “So… shall we?” He gestured toward the door to the first-class cabins. I knew he was excited to access this uncharted territory. He was going to access a lot more uncharted territory if he played his cards right. Hey-o!

I opened the door, then held it open while Jack fumbled through with his chair.

“Nice!” he said, grabbing the first thing he saw--a bowl of potpourri from an end table in the hallway. “What’s this?”

I saw my chance and I took it. “Deodorant. You rub it all up on your body to make yourself smell better. Do you want to give it a try?”

Jack shrugged. “Eh. It’ll probably sell for more if I keep it in mint condition.”

Well, I fucking tried.

“Our rooms are this way,” I said. I led him to suites 52/54/56. All of them. At once.

Jack was so excited to get inside. “What’s it like in there?” he asked. “Is it… is it proper for drawing conditions? Is there any room for me to draw you? Because if it’s anything like the size of my room, idk if we’ll fit.”

I laughed, inserting my key into the lock. “You’re asking if our rich bitch rooms are alright? When your room down in steerage is a fucking closet with bunk beds? Yeah bitch, it’s quite proper, I assure you!”

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~**

“Srsly?” Fatty asked. “That’s it?”

“Idk what you were expecting! It wasn’t anything hilarious. That’s why I cut to the chase the first time!”

“Then why not start it _after_ that line in the first place?” Fatty shouted.

I swear to god I’m going to murder this bitch.

“Do you want to hear this story or _not,_ you fat fuck?”

“I _do,_ ” he emphasized, “but I wish you’d leave out _some_ of these unnecessary details.”

“Oh, really?” I taunted. “Okay. We’ll have it your way. Just like Burger King.”

“Thank gah,” everyone sighed in relief.

I cleared my throat.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~*~*~***

I stood in the rain, on the decks of the Carpathia, watching as the Statue of Liberty came into view--

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS~*~*~**~~***

“Oh my fucking god!” Fatty shouted. “YOU CAN’T JUST SKIP RIGHT TO END!”

“THIS IS MY STORY, YOU DISGUSTING SLOTH, AND IF YOU WANT TO PICK AND CHOOSE WHAT MEMORIES I TELL YOU THEN YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HEAR ANY OF IT. THE CARPATHIA TOOK ME TO NEW YORK AND I GOT THE FUCK OFF AND LIVED A JOLLY LITTLE LIFE UP UNTIL TODAY, WHEN I WAS FORCED TO SIT IN THIS ROOM WITH YOU PEASANTS. THE END. _THE. FUCKING. END._ THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW, ISN’T IT? YOU SHOULD BE HONORED THAT YOUR LITTLE MORTAL EARS ARE EVEN GIVEN A CHANCE TO LISTEN TO THIS STORY. BUT YET, YOU STILL SIT THERE AND BITCH, BITCH, BITCH. JUST LIKE THE OBESE PIECE OF SHIT YOU ARE.”

“You’re a _cunt!”_ Fatty yelled, jumping up from his chair (well, he’s fat, so he didn’t exactly jump). “You’re a pretentious, snobby, no good, two-bit _cunt.”_

I jumped up from my chair as well (well, I’m old, I didn’t exactly jump up). “I’m royalty!” I yelled, shaking my fist at fatty. “Didn’t you hear that part of the story? I’m fucking _royalty.”_

“You’re the _worst_ storyteller that has ever lived! Ever!” Fatty shouted, balling up his hamburger wrapper and throwing it at me. “I’ve read _fanfictions_ that tell a better story than you do!”

I gasped. “Are you saying that what I went through could be compared to a _fanfic?”_

“Guys, guys, guys, guys, guys, guys, guys, guys, guys,” Brock sighed, stepping in between me and Fatty and pushing us apart from each other with his grubby hands. Great, now I had mud on me. He still hadn’t washed up from when he thrusted his arm inside the safe. He rolled his eyes. “I just want to know where the diamond is, okay?” he asked, looking at me. “And you,” he said, looking at Fatty, “are not helping me get there. Just… let her tell the story, okay?”

“HA!” I yelled over Brock’s shoulder. “Suck it, you fat bastard!”

Silence.

“So.” I casually sat back down. “Are you ready for me to continue _where I left off?”_ I glared at everyone, making sure no one was going to step out of line again, before I nodded and continued on with my story.

**~*~*~*~*~FLASHBACK TO 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~*~***

“It’s quite proper, I assure you!”

**~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS~*~*~*~***

I paused, still glaring at everyone, watching as Fatty twitched violently in his seat. Iight. Clearly these bitches were ready.

**~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~**

I closed the door to 52/54/56, watching as Jack looked around and was stunned by the beauty that was my suite(s). His jaw dropped, overtaken by the rich bitchness. This must be such a treat for him. “Will this light do?” I teased, knowing that everything about the room(s?) was perfection and obviously the light would do.

“Well,” Jack sighed, looking around. “Natural light would have been better. Back when I was doing my portraits in Old Perrie, I’d always make sure it was around mid-morning when the sun was the brightest. 11am is a great time. But since we missed _that_ window of opportunity, I guess this artificial lighting will have to do.”

“Oh… I was kinda just kidding,” I said, watching as he made an O shape with his mouth when he realized my question about the lighting had been rhetorical. “Well, I’d say we could wait until morning butttttttttttttttt………” I trailed off.

“Hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh-hoh,” Jack laughed in French, not to be confused with Santa Claus. “Normally I’m not used to working in such horrible conditions. Escargot, ratatouille, croissant,” he continued in French. I understood because I was still fluent.

“So anyway, did you want a tour of the place? Wanna pretend like we’re on MTV Cribs?” I asked hopefully.

“Sure!” Jack nodded.

“Hello, MTV! Welcome to my crib!” I said, falling right into character, waving at Jack to follow me. “So over here you have the first sitting room, one of twelve, which is where we’ll be doing the deed. The drawing, not the actual deed. Not yet.” I winked at him. “In the 52 section of the suite, over yonder, you have the three fully stocked kitchens. I’d say you could help yourself to what’s in the fridge… but… I have a feeling you’ll take the _whole fridge,_ amiright?”

“You’re right--”

Suddenly, the glass in the sunroof above us shattered and Molly repelled in from the roof. “I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she screamed. The whole time she was sliding down the rope into the 54 section of the suite. Jack and I both ugg’d a million times and before she could say anything else, Jack had ushered her out of the room, murmuring nonsense at her the whole time.

Oh, Molly. So predictable.

“Anyway,” I continued, “over in the 56 section is where the magic happens.” I winked again. “As in, where the twenty bedrooms are, and where the minions’ quarters are located. I only said that bit about the magic happening because I wasn’t quite sure if we were still pretending we were on Cribs or not. Are we?”

“I don’t have cable,” Jack said with a shrug. “I’m not quite sure what MTV Cribs _is.”_

“Ugg,” I ugged. “My references are so lost on the poor.”

“Oh my gah, is that a Bob Ross?” Jack boinged, shoving past me so aggressively that I fell onto my bum. What a _dick._ I huffed, pushing myself up from the floor and wiping the filth from my dress. I watched as he crouched down in front of my many paintings that were leaning against the wall.

“You know his work?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “You know Bob Ross but you don’t know MTV Cribs?”

“Bob Ross came on PBS.” Jack rolled his eyes at me. “You didn’t need cable to watch PBS, silly.” Oh. I didn’t know you could watch TV without cable. The things you learn. “Anyway, look at his highs and lows and ups and downs,” Jack commented, gesturing towards the painting.

“I know,” I sighed wistfully. “It’s extraordinary. Unlike your trash.”

Jack nodded, agreeing with me. “This was clearly painted at around 11am in natural sunlight. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I’m so jealous.”

So then I was in my room, unlocking the safe where Cal had stowed my necklace away in. “Two to the right…” I muttered, remembering the combination. “Two to the left… five to the right…” Yes. The combination to the safe was “Cal.” The safe accepted my combination and popped itself open. I removed the necklace and turned around to see Jack writing out the combination on his hand.

He looked up at me and smiled innocently.

“Cal insists on carting this thing everywhere.” I rolled my eyes.

“Should we be expecting him anytime soon?”

“Cal?” I laughed. “Expecting him in his own suite(s)? Don’t be absurd. We’re totes alone. No chance of anyone walking in on us. Ever. This is the most private place in this whole ship that we could be in right now.” I rolled my eyes again. “Anywhere else on this ship we would have to constantly be looking over our shoulders, expecting Cal, but not here. Not this place. Not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?”

“Kk!”

I handed Jack the necklace, which I knew was dangerous but I wanted him to see what an amazing provider Cal was for me. “Holy _shit!”_ Jack said, taking out his pocket microscope that he had stolen from the science building earlier and setting it up so he could examine the diamond better. “This is amazing! The detail on this thing! Wow! What is it, a sapphire?”

“A SAPPHIRE? Are you fucking joking? I don’t wear sapphires. Sapphires are what _poor_ people wear as jewelry. Jesus, Jack, what do you think of me? Honestly! It’s a goddamn diamond! Louis the sixteenth wore it once. _God,”_ I huffed. A sapphire. How disgusting.

“Oh, my b,” Jack said, putting away his pocket microscope but continuing to analyze the diamond under the light. “I bet I could get _a lot_ for this thing.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, snatching the diamond away from him. He frowned. “Now is not the time for stealing, Jack!” I sighed, wiping away his residual grease he had left on my precious diamond. “I want you to draw me in this, okay?”

“As part of your caricature?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. “Like, you’re sitting in the diamond? Sitting _on_ the diamond? You are the diamond? Please be more specific, caricatures have no limits.”

“No, you fucking invalid. I’m asking you to draw me _wearing_ this.”

“Oh!” Jack cackled. “Okay, okay. That’s more reasonable. So, for this caricature, how big did you want your head to be?”

“Jack! I don’t want a caricature! I just said that to get you back here!”

Jack frowned. “Oh… I’m… really good at them… but, okay, yeah, okay that’s cool. We don’t have to draw anything. We can just hang out! Do you have any cards or anything?”

“Jack, honestly,” I groaned. “I know you’re not used to having girls talk to you, but don’t you get it? I’m asking you _to draw me naked._ Wearing _this,”_ I said, swinging the diamond in his face. His eyes traced the movement of the diamond. “Wearing _only_ this.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Jack boinged.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s Penis’ POV~*~*~*~***

Boing.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

So then I shoved him out of the room so I could undress and primp and powder and adjust and whatnot. I had instructed him to _get the room ready._ Hopefully he uses this time to _actually_ get the room ready, and not just steal all of my belongings. This relationship is going to be so hard if I’m constantly having to watch him.

I sat down in front of my mirror and took the fugly butterfly clip out of my hair. I already felt prettier. Then I got onto the task of undressing, which was actually quite difficult considering Mother had implemented her new _locking_ system in my corset. I sighed, frustrated, before stomping out to the living room to ask Jack for assistance.

He was in the middle of putting the safe onto a handtruck and looked like a deer in headlights when I caught him. “You can go back to stealing in just a second,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Can you help pick the lock on the back of this thing?” I asked, turning around and pointing at Mother’s new system.

“Good thing I’m excellent at picking locks,” he said, whipping out his lock pick that he had stolen from the master at arms and making quick work of undoing Mother’s system. “It’s a skill that all of us poor folk have,” he explained. “We break into a lot of places. To steal their stuff.”

I nodded. “I got that. Kaythanks!” I said, before running out of the room to finish undressing.

Jack was in for a treat.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

I am in for a _treat._

I couldn’t contain myself or my erection after Rose told me she’d be going commando, so to make myself busy while she undressed I began setting the scene. First, I shrugged off my suspenders so that they hung loosely at my sides. My pants don’t need to be held up right now. My erection is already doing that for them.

Then I began rearranging the furniture to make the room seem less empty. I’d stolen a few chairs and whatnot already, and I didn’t want Rose to notice the missing furniture. I moved the couch to the middle of the room to take up space, then rearranged a few pillows (I’d stolen some of those, too) and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

I sat down and unfolded my case of charcoal and pencils. My charcoal was literal charcoal; I steal it from barbecue pits when no one’s looking and whittle it down into a pencil shape. While I was whittling, I heard the door open and looked up to see Rose emerge. She was wearing a kind-of see-through black robe type deal. If I squinted I could see her nips. Well, I could see the left nip. I wasn’t sure about the right one. Did she only have one nip?

Regardless, between her, the nip(s), the robe, and the big-ass diamond she was wearing, I was sure I’d get a fortune if I sold her on the streets to a pimp. A high-class pimp, obviously. I wanted only the best for Rose.

Rose raised her eyebrows at me and spun the strap of her robe in a seductive fashion. My erection boinged even more.

“The last thing I need,” she said, “is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll. As paying customer”--she held up a shiny dime and dropped it into my hand--“I expect to get what I want.”

OH MY GOD A DIME. I NOW HAVE TWO TWENTIES, TWO NICKELS, A DIME, AND A PENNY. $40.21. I AM SO FUCKING RICH.

Rose stepped back, ready to unveil her body. Slowly she took the robe off until it dropped to the ground, leaving me to stare at her boobs. That rack. Those nips. Well… _that_ nip. Does Rose only have one nip? I stared at her right boob, uncertain. There was some pink action in the center, but… was there an actual nip? The left one was boinged and ready to go, but I couldn’t quite see the right one. Does Rose have one outie nip and one innie one? None of my French girls had anything like this.

Then I realized she was waiting for me to say something. I had to talk.

“Over on my penis--the couch,” I corrected. As she walked over to the couch, I readjusted myself slightly so my erection wasn’t showing as much. “Lie down,” I whispered creepily, talking both to her and my erection.

“Tell me when it looks right,” she said, moving her arms in five different directions at once.

“Keep your arm back the way it was. Put that hand right by your face there; you have a pimple and it’s distracting. Head down… eyes to me, keep them on me. DO NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF ME, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Ite. Let’s do this bitch.” I settled in, then realized I almost forgot something. “Hold on. My drawing music.” I took out my stolen iPod and found my favorite song to draw to. I set it on loop and then pressed Play.

_Uh huh… Life’s like this,_ Avril sang. _Uh huh… uh huh… that’s the way it is._

Satisfied, I picked up my charcoal and began to draw.

“So serious,” Rose joked.

“You’re the one who wanted a serious drawing. If you’d asked for a caricature, we would be having the time of our lives right now, but whatev.”

I drew some more, and Av sang on in the background: _Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?_ I shimmied to the beat.

When I got to the boob region, I paused, uncertain of what to do. You know what, I’m just going to draw the one nip. Idk how to make innie nips photogenic. I’ll pretend the other nip is hiding behind a pillow or something.

I hummed along to Av as I shaded in the right boob with its lack of nip. _And you fall, and you crawl, and you break, and you take what you get…_

While drawing Rose’s belly button, I looked down at my hands. I hoped she wouldn’t notice my hands. They look very old for someone as young as I am. But that’s what happens when you live on the streets.

“I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste,” Rose said, speaking a little French to me. “I can’t imagine Monsieur Bob Ross blushing.”

I rolled my eyes. “He does _landscapes._ And didn’t I tell you to keep your face still? Did I say laughing was allowed? Did I?”

“Sorry.”

“You should be.” Satisfied that she wasn’t going to mouth off any more, I resumed my work.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Old Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~~***

“My heart was pounding the whole time,” I said. “It was the most erotic moment of my life--up until then, at least. You bitches wish you could have the story of Rose: The Later Years. I go on to have sex in a roller coaster, on a horse, on a pottery wheel… you don’t even know.”

Everyone looked back at me. My group of listeners had doubled since I started talking about the drawing. They were all excited to know the deets of my nudity.

“So what happened next?” Fatty asked, enthralled.

“You mean… did we Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?” I asked. Everyone giggled and blushed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Fatty. Jack was very professional.”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Ite! The drawing is finished!” Jack announced. He reached over and put the Av song on pause.

“So… is there anything you want to do while I’m still naked?” I asked. “Anything at all? I could spread my legs, maybe, for another angle?”

“No need,” Jack said, admiring his work. “This is perfect. I’m such a great artist. This would be even better if it were a caricature, but whatev, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes and got up to put on my robe. I leaned behind Jack, making sure my boob was pressed up against him, and looked at the drawing. I am such a fucking dish. Idk why he didn’t draw my right nipple, though. I swear it exists.

I watched as Jack wrote the date and signed the bottom corner with his initials. “Why do your hands look so old?” I asked.

“Oh…” Jack put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I’m too poor to afford lotion. I can’t exactly lube them up like you rich folks do. They’ve just… been through a lot. Idk. I don’t like talking about my old hands, okay?”

“Ite,” I said, backing off, “my b.”

Jack blew the charcoal off the drawing (ohhhhhhhh… now it has AIDS) and handed it to me. “Kthx,” I said, and kissed him deeply, my tongue exploring all the nooks and crannies of his diseased mouth. I hoped he would get the hint. I’d just been naked in front of him! This was the most erotic moment of my life!

Jack did not get the hint.

I sighed and took the AIDS drawing over to my letter-writing desk (not to be confused with my staring-at-myself-in-the-mirror desk), where I pulled out my stationery and wrote a note. You don’t need to know what it says, though. We’ll get to that.

“Sup, bitch?” Jack asked.

I handed him the necklace. “Will you put this back in the safe for me?” I’m fully aware that Jack is a full-blown klepto, but I don’t care. Maybe he could sell it and we could live off the profits for the rest of our lives. Or maybe he’d put it back in the safe and all would be well. I could go either way at this point. Like Av sang in the song I’ve just heard five thousand times on repeat, _“Lay back, it’s all been done before.”_ That Av. She knows everything.

~*~*~*~*~Cal’s POV~*~*~*~*

So I was in the middle of another one of Jenkins’ PowerPoint presentations, where he was trying to convince us to buy stock in something called Microsoft. “Bill Gates won’t amount to a thing, trust me!” I laughed, sipping my whiskey and being the master of the universe. You know, a typical Friday night.

“But Cal,” Jenkins said, “Bill Gates _made_ this software that I used to create this presentation! I really think his company is going places.”

I just glared at him. “Didn’t I just say _trust me?”_

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite,” he agreed, then continued his presentation regardless. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my bestie/valet Lovejoy enter the room and he nodded subtly for me to follow him.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said politely, standing up from our table. I eagerly followed Lovejoy an appropriate distance away from the table, so no one could overhear our super private conversation. “Sup, _Spicey?”_ I asked, using the nickname only I was allowed to use.

“None of the stewards have seen her,” Spicer Lovejoy sighed, shaking his head dramatically.

“What?” I gasped. “This is _absurd._ It’s a _ship!_ There are only _so many places_ she could be!” I angry whispered at him, internally deciding how much I would dock his pay this week for not being able to fulfill this one task.

“Uhhhhhh, actually, Cal, there’s _a lot_ of places she could be. Like, yeah, it’s a _ship_ but it’s the largest, most grandest ship in the world. God himself could not sink this ship, remember?”

“But this is why I pay you the big bucks!” I exclaimed. “Well, not _this_ week you won’t be getting the big bucks, but in general I pay you very well!”

“But, Cal,” he sighed. “I’ve looked everywhere! I’ve looked in the dining room, the bow, the stern, the aft, the starboard, the port, the hallway, the A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, X, Y and Z decks-”

“What about the W deck?” I raised one of my eyebrow wigs at him.

“Well, I… no, I didn’t check there.”

I glared at him. “Well maybe _that’s_ where she is!”

“I didn’t check the W deck, but… I did check all the bathrooms and the richbitch gym! I even went down to the _slums_ to see if I could find Cher there, but idk where she’s at!”

“But I’m _the biggest_ Cher fan in the world, Spice! I just _have_ to meet her! If I Could Turn Back Time has been my ringtone for the last 6 months! It’s a _classic._ She’s a queen! And _I’m royalty!_ Lovejoy,” I sighed, “Spicer. Spice. Coriander. _Find her.”_

**~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV~*~*~*~***

I was tired.

I was also pissed.

The Wiggles were on _right now_ but I couldn’t watch them, _no,_ I had to be standing in this stupid fucking room where we drive the ship in case anyone needed orders. I don’t know how I was supposed to assist with any of this crap anyway, considering literally all of my knowledge comes from Mr. A.

But Mr. A was also the reason I was _here_ and not _watching the dang Wiggles._

**~*~*~*~*Flashback to 20 minutes ago~*~*~*~***

“EJ,” Mr. Andrews sighed.

“No! I won’t do it! Tonight is the episode where Murray orders his muscle building kit! It’s a _classic,_ Mr. A! I can’t miss it! I can’t!”

“But you’ve seen it before, EJ,” Mr. Andrews said, sighing quietly. “You’ve seen it many times. We watched it together while eating dinner just three nights ago, don’t you remember? You were getting anxious because the intro was taking too long and you didn’t want to start eating the fish sticks I prepared you until the actual _story_ started happening?”

“I remember,” I sighed. “But--”

“And remember how you _begged_ to come along with me on this trip in the first place? I told you no, ships were _not_ for little boys, but you _insisted_ you come along?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, staring down at my shoes.

“And _remember_ how I told you that you could come along on this journey with me _if_ you were to play your role? Your role as Captain? The most important role a little boy could have?”

“Yes,” I mumbled again.

_“And_ that once we got to New York, I’d take you to go see Beauty  & The Beast On Ice?”

I smiled at that. “Of course I remember that!”

Mr. Andrews smiled as well. “So that’s why it’s really important that you do as I say _now_ and go spend some time at the bridge, so that _later_ we can do things _you_ want to do. Like the aforementioned Beauty  & The Beast On Ice.”

I thought about what he was saying for all of two seconds, before I remembered I hated being at the bridge. People always asked me questions I didn’t know how to respond to and made me feel stupid! I shook my head, stomped my foot and exclaimed, “But that’s not fair! I was bored _all day_ and didn’t have anything to do! Why couldn’t you have made me go _earlier?_ You waited until The Wiggles were on! You’re not being fair AT ALL!”

“EJ--”

“NO! I HATE YOU!” I cried, turning away from him and crossing my arms over my chest. I heard Mr. A gasp quietly behind me. I sniffled, wiping away the tears that had escaped from my eyes before crossing my arms again. Silence washed over us, and a minute or so passed before I felt Mr. Andrews gently touch my shoulder.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered.

“I do,” I said, my lip quivering. “You’re mean and I hate you.”

I didn’t hate him.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, buddy,” he whispered. “Now run along; Officer Lightoller is waiting outside to escort you there,” he said, patting my hip to get me moving.

I stomped out of the room.

**~*~*~*~*~END FLASHBACK~*~*~*~*~**

Anyway, that’s how I ended up standing at the bridge, staring aimlessly out into the ocean. I was mad and I hated everyone. I didn’t actually hate Mr. Andrews but he was definitely being a butthead right now. I only had ten more minutes to waste until my shift was over and I could go back to my room. _Not_ that I could watch _The Wiggles_ or anything, since that had ended _45 minutes ago,_ and Mr. A hadn’t finished inventing the DVR yet, but whatev. Whatev.

What. Ev.

I heard footsteps behind me and looked over to see Officer Lightoller standing next to me.

Silence.

Silence.

More silence.

Ugg, what did he want from me! “Clear,” I mumbled, referring to the stupid ocean in front of us. Are you happy now, Lightoller? Will you go away so that I continue standing here in peace? CAN’T A BOY POUT?

“Yes.” Lightoller apparently agreed with my previous statement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a flat calm.”

……………what the heck did that mean? I looked over at him, confused. “Ummm… yeah,” I said slowly.

Flat calm? What did that mean? Then I remembered one of my field trips that Mr. A took me on before school started last fall, and how we had been standing looking out at a millpond and Mr. A had smiled and said, “It’s such a flat calm, don’t you think, EJ?”

I didn’t know what that meant then and I still didn’t today, but hopefully Lightoller would.

“Like a mill pond!” I exclaimed, smiling brightly over at him, hoping that my profound statement would shut him up for good.

“It… will make the bergs harder to see… with no breaking water at the base, dotdotdot...” he replied.

_Crap._

**_CRAP._ **

I WAS NOT PREPARED TO RESPOND TO ANYTHING LIKE THIS.

THAT SENTENCE WAS NEVER IN MY TRAINING BOOKS WITH MR. ANDREWS.

I was panicking.

“Hmm,” I grunted, nervously stirring my tea that someone had handed me. They didn’t know that I was cut off from caffeine after 7pm, HA! A few awkward minutes passed and apparently Lightoller was still waiting for a response. Didn’t he get it? I don’t know what the heck he just said to me! WHAT ARE BERGS? Knowing I had to say something, I cleared my throat and said, “Do you have a favorite Wiggle?”

“What?”

“Mine’s Greg. He’s the yellow one.”

“Oh, um… no, I--I don’t know.”

“Your’s is probably Anthony. He’s the blue Wiggle. You look like a blue Wiggle kind of guy.”

“Oh? Uh… why do you say that?”

I shrugged. “I just know these things.” I waited, watching as Lightoller blinked at me a few times. My small talk clearly hadn’t worked on distracting him; maybe it was because he didn’t have a favorite Wiggle. “So… what’s your favorite Nick Jr. show, then?”

“My--my what?”

“Blues Clues?”

“Um…”

“Dora? Please tell me it’s not Dora.” I rolled my eyes. I hated that Mexican bitch.

“ _Dora?_ What is Dora? Captain, I don’t understand what you’re on about.”

My eyes widened. “You’ve never heard of _DORA?”_ I laughed loudly. “You must live under a rock.” Lightoller blinked at me a few times and then must have finally decided that my response was a good as it was going to get. Suddenly my light up Thomas the Tank Engine watch started beeping, which could only mean one thing. “Well, I’m off!” I exclaimed happily now that my shift was over and I could go back to my room now. “Maintain speed and heading, Mr. Lightoller,” I said, reciting the phrase Mr. Andrews had me memorize this morning.

Lightoller took it with a confused nod.

Then I scurried away.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

So then I finished putting on my dress, _without_ a corset because I was just a big fucking rebel now. I made my way out of my bedroom only to run into Jack, who was busy stealing all of the lightbulbs out of the lamps. I rolled my eyes at his antics. “You look nice!” he said, eyeing me up and down three times before wolf whistling and making the jerking off motion with his hand.

“I know.” I nodded, agreeing with his statement. “I’m a dish.”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and the door handle started turning. HOW DID ANYONE FIND US HERE? I was not expecting this _AT ALL!_ “Oh my gah, we have to leave! Come on!” I said, grabbing Jack’s filthy coat and starting to pull him out of the room.

“But… my light bulbs!” he cried, trying to pull his arm out of my grasp. “And my chairs! And my safe! I already have it on the handtruck and everything! Just give me a second to go grab it, okay? We can wheel it with us.”

“What the fuck? Bitch, no, we’re leaving. We don’t have time for this. We can’t let Lovejoy see us!”

“But… my drawings are also back there…”

“I don’t give a _shit!_ Jack! Let’s go!”

“FINE,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and following me out of the room, just as Lovejoy turned the corner. We stepped out into the hall and I _could_ have closed the door quietly, you know one of those deals where you turn the knob and then close it and then let go of the knob? So that it doesn’t make the clicking sound? But instead I slammed it. Slammed it as hard as I could. I slammed it so hard I almost threw my back out.

“He won’t even know we left,” I said to Jack. “We were very quiet.”

“Um… not really…” Jack said. “Why didn’t you do that thing with the handle? Where you turn it before you close it?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me,” I said, staring blankly at him. “Come on, act natural,” I said as we began to walk down the hallway.

“Natural? Oh, okay. Welfare, food stamps, layaway, WIC cards, government cheese, Koopa,” Jack began muttering in a foreign language.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” I told him.

“I’m speaking Poor.”

“Oh,” I laughed, “that explains it.”

Then something completely unexpected happened! Lovejoy _opened the door I had just quietly closed!_ “Oh my fucking gah,” I said, “I did _not_ see that coming! RUN!” I exclaimed, grabbing onto Jack’s filthy coat once again and dragging him along with me down the hall. “RUN FASTER, YOU POOR FUCK!” I screamed, literally dragging him with me. “YOU SHOULD BE GOOD AT RUNNING! DON’T YOU HAVE TO OUTRUN THE POPO ALL THE TIME?!?!?!?!?” I shrieked.

“Well that was a low blow,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll show _you_ running!” Then he cackled loudly and scurried off ahead of me. I cackled along with him as I picked up the speed. We skidded around the corner like we were playing Slot Car Derby, except we actually had control over what we were doing and had a fair chance at winning this game, so really it wasn’t at all like Slut Car.

We skidded around the next corner just in time to see the elevator doors closing.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” I yelled at the elevator minion.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” Jack was also screaming.

“Alright, I’m waiting, Jesus Christ,” the elevator minion said.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” I was still chanting as we raced towards the elevator.

“I _said I’m fucking waiting,”_ the sassy elevator minion said, clearly holding the doors open for us.

Jack and I ran into the elevator, chortling loudly at our ways. “Go, go, go, go, go! Down, down, down, down!” Jack began yelling.

“Down! Go! TAKE US FUCKING DOWN! MOVE THIS FUCKING ELEVATOR, MINION. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR OH MY GOD!” I screamed at him.

“ARE YOU FUCKS SERIOUS? I’M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN! I HAVE TO LITERALLY CLOSE THESE DOORS _BY HAND!_ THEY CAN ONLY SLIDE SO FAST! YOU RICH BITCHES, I SWEAR!” the minion yelled back. I rolled my eyes and took down his name so that I could have him fired later. Nobody talks to Rose that way. The elevator started moving and I looked up just in time to see Lovejoy running into the closed gate.

“HA! SUCK IT!” I yelled, sticking my tongue out at him. Then I made the universal motion of _kiss my ass,_ by kissing my fingertips and then turning around and placing them on my bum. Then I banged the bottoms of my fists together in front of my chest, like they did in Friends to tell one another to fuck off. Then I flipped him off, just to really sell it home.

We rode the elevator down to E Deck, and as Jack and I spilled out of the elevator, he bumped straight into a minion and kind of pat pat patted him down a little as he crashed into him. I think he picked his pocket a little.

“Sorry,” Jack giggled, but I don’t think he was.

Then we ran down some stairs, and again Jack found an excuse to run his hands all over some kind of room service cart action a minion was pushing. “My b!” Jack exclaimed, fumbling his hands all over the cup and the saucers and the spoons and pocketing them.

“Keep going,” the minion said. “I’ve got it. Please stop touching my stuff. You’re really not that sly.”

We ran through a door and stopped in the corridor to laugh and giggle and chortle and cackle and get off to our hilarity.

“Pretty tough for a valet, this fella,” Jack laughed. “Seems more like a cop.”

“I think he was.”

“I’m so glad we had this convo.” Then he looked up and saw Lovejoy’s face through the window. “Oh, shit.”

“RUN!” I shrieked.

We turned a corner and literally ran into a dead end because we’re idiots, but Jack found a door and led us into it just in the nick of time. He shut the door behind us and we examined our surroundings. It appeared to be some kind of portal to hell. Below us was a ladder leading to heat and steam and all kinds of hot action swirling around, and it was so loud we had to cover our ears.

“NOW WHAT?” I asked.

“WHAT?”

We laughed. Deaf people are so hilarious.

We decided to take the portal to hell and climb down the ladder to what turned out to be a boiler room. Everywhere minions were shoveling coal with dirt on their faces, wearing dirty, coal-streaked clothes. Jack must have felt like a rich bitch compared to them. But these minions were giving me some nether tinglies. _My_ minions were all scrawny and clean-shaven and pasty-faced and neatly uniformed. But these filthy, boiler room minions… they were _burly_ minions. They had muscles and stubble and chiseled jaws… be still, my vajay.

“Hold up,” a burly minion said in a sexxi Australian accent, “what are you two doing down here? You shouldn’t be down here; it could be dangerous!”

Instead of listening to the nice minion who clearly cared about our safety and well-being, Jack and I turned around and started running, past all the burly minions and their straining muscles.

“Carry on!” Jack shouted, feeling incredibly rich in their wake. “Don’t mind us, you’re doing a great job! Keep up the good work! Stop by my office for your Christmas bonus!”

I was already feeling high off of the most erotic moment of my life, and now the burly minions just added to the sensation in my nether bits, so I stopped running to show Jack I meant business. Again I kissed him as hard as I could, and this time he got the fucking hint. We went to town on each other as the steam swirled around us. But then I realized that a boiler room might not be the best place for secks, so we carried on.

We reached a cargo room. Jack gasped in delight at all the things he could steal, already neatly packaged and boxed for his thieving convenience. Then we came to a car in the middle of the room and walked up to it. Jack started trying to hotwire the car, but I didn’t want him to lose focus.

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat, standing next to the car’s rear door. I may be about to give up the goods, but I needed to make sure he still knew his role.

Like a good lad, Jack opened the door for me and helped me step up. I thought he was going to come sit next to me, but then he shut the door. God damn it. How difficult was it going to be to make this poor bitch have sex with me?

While in the car, I looked up and saw two roses sitting in a vase in the corner of the car. Roses! Like my name! My name is Rose! This must be a sign! Maybe things were going to turn out well for this rose!

I laughed. Things always turn out well for me. I’m royalty.

I looked ahead, and, oh jesus. Now Jack was sitting in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t making this easy. But I had run out of fucks to give. In one smooth motion I lowered the glass panel between us.

Jack honked the horn, and I faked some laughter.

“Where to, miss?” he asked.

“To my cunt.”

Jack turned around. “Bitch what?”

Again, no fucks. I grabbed him by the arms and manhandled him to the back seat with me. I was getting myself some dick, damn it.

He put his arms around me, so I took it as a sign that he seemed to get an inkling of where I was going with this. MAYBE. I thought he had gotten the inkling half an hour ago, so I don’t know what to think anymore.

“You nervous?” he asked, intertwining our fingers.

...Does he think I’m a virgin? Does he not know that I’m Cal’s wife in practice if not by law, and that we do it on the regular?

“No…” I said.

To show Jack the level of my experience, I performed a blow job on each of his fingers, sucking and deep-throating them with expertise. They tasted _awful,_ like charcoal and rat droppings, but I was getting this D, god damn it.

Now he was just looking at me in awe. Is _he_ a virgin? What the hell? Did I have to spell it out for him?

“Put your hands on me, Jack,” I ordered.

He didn’t move. Jesus Christ.

I took his hand and planted it on my boob. The left one. The good stuff. That seemed to set him in motion, and he started kissing me, getting all up on me and whatnot. Finally.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Two officers stood all along the watchtower, keeping watch.

“I can smell ice, you know. When it’s near.”

“Bollocks!”

“Well, I can, alright!”

End scene.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Officer Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“So…” I said to Officer Lightoller as we approached the deck, “you haven’t seen those binoculars, for the lookout? They’re kind of… helpful. For when I’m… doing my job. Keeping a lookout.”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Lightoller. “I haven’t seen them since Southampton. It’ll be G. Whatev. Well, I’ll be on my rounds. God himself could not sink this ship. Cheerio, old bean.”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So we were having sex--

**~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“The fuck is with these short scenes?” Fatty asked. “What the fuck? You were not there for either of those. You literally left off _mid-fuck_ to give me those two scenes.”

Staring him dead in the eyes, I gave him the finger with both of my hands. After a few moments of this, he rolled his eyes and backed off.

I continued my story.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So Jack and I were having sex. Doing the deed. Hiding the pickle. And it was great. I was thinking about the burly minions and I was close. But the thing was… he smelled. _A lot._ If I thought his hair and clothes smelled bad, I wasn’t at all prepared for what was in store for me when I took off his boxer briefs. _Peeled_ off is more accurate; they were stuck on pretty tight from all the dirt and grime and filth. And the smell… oh, the smell.

I think at first he wanted me to blow him like I’d done with his fingers. But… LOL. I wasn’t going anywhere near that swamp with my mouth.

So I just rode him. I rode him _like a man._ JK. We did not do anal. Just regular, old fashioned PIV intercourse. As I rode him, I stared forlornly at the window in the car. If only I could find a way to… lower it. Just to get a little fresh air. I don’t know how windows are actually lowered in cars because I have a minion whose sole purpose is to do that for me, but I did the sum in my head, and I think if I reached the top of the window and pulled it down like I did with the glass paneling earlier… it might work.

Just as I was about to reach the window… Jack and I came. At the same time. Look, I’m that good. I’ve been around the block. But my perfect timing, orgasm-wise, did mean that I didn’t reach the window in time, so my hand kind of slid down the glass. I guess I’m stuck in this Dutch oven for a while. God damn it.

I flipped us over so that Jack could lie on my perfect bosom. I certainly wasn’t about to lie my head on his filthy chest.

Jack was all out of breath, even though I’d been the one doing all the work. I guess that’s what happens when you’re too poor to afford proper nutrition.

“You’re trembling,” I commented.

Jack breathed in and out some more. “Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” He kissed me, and then I shoved his head down onto my bosom and held my nose up high so I could breathe in the air above Jack’s head. It still smelled awful, but the air up here was a little better, at least.


	6. Part Six

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Two minions bobbed along with a big burly Australian as he showed them the way.

“They ran down there. Crikey.”

“Right. Thanks, mate!”

“No problem, mate!”

This is leading somewhere, I promise. But right now we’re going to switch to:

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~**~**

“So, you’re telling me,” I said, in the middle of a conversation with Spicey as we walked back towards 52/54/56, “that you _weren’t_ able to find Cher and you _also_ somehow _LOST ROSE_ when you were chasing them?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “You’re lucky I love you, kid,” I said, giving him a noogie.

So then we were in the suite(s) and I immediately went over to check the safe. I knew Jack was a thief; if he had spent time in my suite(s) then something _obviously_ must have gone missing by now. “Do you think it’s a bit darker in here?” I asked, as I twisted the combination into the safe.

“Seems a bit dusky, yeah,” Lovejoy agreed.

“Like someone stole the light bulbs,” I chuckled. Nobody would do that. “Also, why is this safe on a handtruck?” I laughed again, shrugging and finally opening the safe. I stopped abruptly, staring at the loose piece of paper that was dangling out of the safe.

“Anything missing, pal?” Spicey asked.

I picked up the paper but did not read the note just yet, I decided to save that for _after_ I looked inside this dingy filth covered folder. Clearly this must belong to Jack. My Rose would never own something so… poverty ridden. I picked up the poverty folder, the pov fold, and peeked inside.

My eyes widened and my erection boinged, even though I had clearly been betrayed. My erection didn’t care about the betrayal part. There in this folder was _my_ Rosie, naked. It had been sketched by the poor man and, what is that? HE DIDN’T EVEN DRAW HER OTHER BOOB? How could Rose think he was a fine artist? HE LEFT OUT ONE OF ROSE’S AMAZING BREASTS.

“Despicable,” I huffed, adjusting myself in my pants. Lovejoy whistled from behind me and I quickly shielded Rose’s picture away from him. “Don’t look at her,” I said, glaring.

He held up his hands, mumbling, “My B, my B.”

“She’s still my wife, you know.” I glared at him some more. “In practice if not yet by law.”

Spicey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’ve been over this a few times.”

He was testing my patience lately. Maybe we needed to have an H2H.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to say it again,” I replied sassily.

Then I remembered the note I had saved and read the words scrawled out in Rose’s handwriting.

_My Dearest Caledon,_

_CHECK OUT MY **RACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** I’M A DISH, RIGHT?_

_**I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** _

_Ugh, sorry, that was Molly. Of course. Anyway, sorry that I’m kind of cheating on you now. Don’t take it personally, okay? You’re still my best girl, Cal. I hope we can still be friends. I really love our platonic relationship. I’m gonna hopefully (finally) go have sex with Jack, so please don’t come looking for us. We’ll be busy, if you know what I mean. AND I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN._

_Anyway._

_All the love,  
Rose DeWitt Bukater._

I glared at the note now. How _dare_ she. In a fit of rage, I crumpled up the stupid drawing of half her naked body and was about to rip it up when suddenly a thought boinged into my head. “I have a better idea,” I said, and then laughed my evilest laughter. “BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!”

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

So back to those two minions.

They followed the burly Aussie’s directions and it took them into this giant room full of luggage and whatnot and what have you. Using hand signals (which they had learned during their Navy Seal training) they covertly circled the room. Minion number one, let’s call him Joe, noticed that the windows of the car parked in the middle of the room were fogged up.

His eyes lit up with glee.

He had won the game.

Then he had to signal the other minion. Let’s call him Bob.

Joe snapped twice, stomped his left foot once and made a pigeon noise, the same thing the seals had taught him for this exact situation. Bob, also formally trained by the seals, knew exactly what that meant and nodded to convey such.

They both approached the car door, all excited like because they (Joe, more than Bob) had won the game. “GOTCHA, YOU FILTHY MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Joe screamed as he flung open the car door.

Empty.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Bob groaned. “I thought we had won the game.”

Joe sighed. “Me too, pal. Me too.”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

“DID YOU,” Jack was hyperventilating, “SEE THEIR FACES?! OH MY GOD, THEIR FACES? THOSE NAVY SEAL MINIONS’ FACES?! OH MY GOD IT WAS SO FUNNY,” he cackled loudly as we stumbled through the door out onto the deck. He bent over, bracing his palms on his thighs to try and catch his breath. “I’ve never”--gasp--“seen something”--gasp--“so funny”--gasp--“in all my days! THOSE FACES. OH MY GOD.”

“Lol yeah, I know, right,” I chuckled along, whipping out a brown paper bag for him to breathe into.

“YOU MUST NOT HAVE SEEN THEIR FACES!” Jack yelled, though it was muffled by the paperbag he was breathing into it. He tore the bag away from his face to continue cackling loudly, then he snorted twice. “THEIR FACES WERE SO PERFECT OMG.”

“Let’s twirl!” I offered, trying to take advantage of Jack’s good mood. Maybe if we twirled long enough, he’d recover from his orgasm and be able to go again. Twirling always helped me in these situations. So then we grabbed hands and did about one and a half twirls before he started cackling again and we had to stop. I rolled my eyes.

“I just can’t get over their faces! Oh my god they were SOOOOOOOOOOOOO funny! They were like this,” he said, imitating one of their faces, “and the other guy was like this!” he said, making a different face. “THEIR _FACES._ GAH. This is the best night of my life,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Are you done now?” I asked.

“NOT REALLY!!!!” he cackled. “THEIR FACES WERE JUST SO--” I cut him off by pressing my perfectly sanitary fingertips to his lips. He slowly stopped laughing and we had a little eye secks. I would prefer if we were having _actual_ secks still, but I knew he still wasn’t ready.

“If the ship docks-- _when_ the ship docks…” I paused dramatically, making sure I had his full attention. I did. So I continued, _“I’m getting off with you.”_ He better realize how _fucking literal_ I’m being right now. “As in, you and I will be having The Sex a lot of times in New York, got it? I was being cute, but I’m being serious. I have _needs,_ Jack. I’m _kiiiiind_ of a nympho,” I said to clarify.

“This is crazy!” Jack exclaimed. “This is just like that time we saw those guys’ faces! Do you remember that? That was my favorite part of this whole trip!”

“I know, I know, whatever,” I said, sick of hearing about those stupid fucking faces. “It doesn’t make any sense! ‘It’ being our relationship, of course. I mean, I’m _rich._ You’re _poor._ I’m pretty. You’re _greasy._ I have _class_ and you _don’t._ Literally. Like, I’m first class and you’re down in the slums. But, because of all _that…”_ I chuckled, running my hand through his greasy hair. Ohhhhhhhhhh my hand will never be the same. “That’s why I trust it.”

The flutes and violins that were playing in the background quietly gasmed as we leaned in and kissed each other deeply. Already having sacrificed my hand to the grease, I continued to run it through his hair and pull him in further. “Their faces,” he chuckled into the kiss, “I can’t get over their faces.” 

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Officer Murdoch watched from above as Jack and Rose frolicked on the decks. He chuckled quietly to himself. “Kids these days.” Murdoch shook his head, grinning ear to ear, and then went back to his business.

Meanwhile, the two officers that stood all along the watchtower were also peeking over the edges and watching as Jack and Rose frolicked. Seriously, it was the middle of the night and this was the only thing to stare at; this wasn’t weird in any way, okay? Just because they were touching each other as they watched doesn’t make it perverted.

“Oh yes, here, look at that!” Officer #1, let’s call him Tom, said to #2, who we will refer to as Jerry, as he gently placed his hand on Jerry’s crotch.

“Look at that, wouldja?!” Jerry laughed, forcing Tom’s palm down harder against his crotch. No homo. This was strictly to keep warm! It was like negative five degrees with the windchill up in this watchtower business and they forgot their coats back at the bridge. Just because he was getting tingly does not mean this was gay in any way, shape, form, mind, body, or skin color. “They’re a bit warmer than we are!”

“Well if that’s what it takes for us to get warm, I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you!” Tom said, chuckling because this was all a joke and not gay at all. Then he pulled his hand away from Jerry’s crotch. “No homo, bro.”

“Right, right, no homo,” Jerry mumbled, already sad about his blue balls. Maybe he was a little homo. He was just about to have an H2H with Tom, asking if they could have a bro-job between friends, when suddenly he saw something peeking out from the water up ahead. “Bugger me!!!!!” Jerry exclaimed. “Fuck fuck shit shit, RING THE EMERGENCY BELL, TOM!!!!”

Tom eagerly rang the emergency bell.

All around the ship, everyone’s ears perked up like dogs’. Uh oh.

**~*~*~*~Mr. Andrews’ POV~*~*~*~***

My ears perked up like a dog’s.

The emergency bell!!!!

This was not going to end well. The ship could stay afloat with the first four bulkheads breached but not five.

Not _five._

And if you measured the velocity the Titanic was moving at, versus the dimensions of the iceberg that I knew was lying up ahead, it all equaled one thing.

We were going to sink.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~***

Jerry picked up the emergency phone and dialled 911, which rang directly to the bridge. “PICK UP, YOU BASTARDS!!!!!! We’re having a fucking emergency! That’s why I dialed 911! Pick up the fucking phone!” he yelled into the receiver, on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Tom was busying himself by having Rose try and toss her paper bag up to him, so that he could have Jerry breathe into it. Unfortunately, throwing a paper bag up into a watchtower was much easier said than done and it took a few times to get it right.

Meanwhile, Minion #47 casually made his way towards the ringing emergency phone, careful not to spill his tea anywhere. _This must be another drill,_ he thought. Without a care in the world, he picked up the phone and cleared his throat four times and took a sip of his tea before finally saying, “Hello? Minion #47 speaking?”

“IS THERE ANYONE THERE?!?!?! OH MY FUCKING GOD WHY IS NOBODY ANSWERING?!?!?!?!” was the first thing he heard. _Gah, people are so dramatic!_ he thought, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his tea.

“Yeah, whatever, I’m here. What’s up? What’s the happening? What’s the de-de-de-dillio, dillio? What’s the de-de-de-deal, deal?” 

“ICEBERG!!! IT’S A FUCKING ICEBERG!!! A HUGE FROZEN PIECE OF WATER THAT COULD POTENTIALLY KILL US ALL, YOU FUCK!”

“Oh,” Minion #47 said, blinking a few times. He sighed, gently setting his teacup down before responding. “Alright, I’ll uh… yeah, I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the info. Oh, by the way, how’s your mum? I heard she’s poorly.”

“Aw, thanks for asking,” Jerry responded. “She’s doing much better, actually. She gave us quite a scare there for a while, but she’s in a rehab facility now and she should be back to her old self soon!”

“That’s wonderful, Jerry! Really, fantastic. I’ll let my nan know, she wanted me to ask.”

“Brilliant!”

“Wait, what I was supposed to be doing again?”

“THERE’S A FUCKING ICEBERG, YOU PRICK!” Jerry screamed.

“OH!” Minion #47 exclaimed. “RIGHT! Gah, maybe we should have saved the small talk for later, amiright?” he chuckled. Suddenly, Molly Brown came riding in on a segway at full speed. She was cackling like a maniac, and as she passed by Minion #47 she roundhouse kicked the tea cup out of his hand.

She dismounted the segway and then with her hands on her chubby hips, she screamed, “I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111111”

Jerry groaned into the receiver. “TELL MOLLY BROWN TO PISS OFF, WOULDJA? NOW IS NOT THE TIME!”

Minion #47 hesitated ever so much before nodding and pressing the phone to his chest to muffle his words, “Hi, Molly. Always a pleasure. Um, Jerry asked me to ask you to, um… come back at a later time to discuss. Would that be alright?”

“Yeah, sonny!” Molly cackled, slapping Minion #47 on the back. “No problem! I want to test out the top speed on this baby anyway!” She grinned, gesturing over towards her segway. “She’s a real beaut, ain’t she?”

Minion #47 nodded. “Gorgeous. What is she, a 1911?”

“1911?!” Molly exclaimed. “Sonny, I’m _RICH!_ She’s brand new! Top of the line! Big Irish hands made this transportation device! A 1911,” she chuckled. “As if. This baby is all 1912.”

Minion #47 could hear Jerry screaming something into the phone. He held up his finger towards Molly, signaling her to give him a minute (to which she politely nodded in response), before pulling the phone back up to his ear. “Jerry? You still there? What’s up?”

“APPARENTLY YOU’RE NOT FUCKING GETTING IT, _MATE._ THE ICEBERG IS LITERALLY A THOUSAND TIMES CLOSER THAN IT WAS BEFORE! FUCKING DO SOMETHING OR WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE--”

“But… God himself could not sink this ship…” he said over Jerry’s screams.

“-TELL SOMEONE! CALL THE COAST GUARD! WAKE CAPPY--”

_“Cappy?”_ Minion #47 laughed. “What is _he_ gonna do?”

“JUST DO SOMETHING!!!!!!” Jerry exclaimed. “BLEEDING CHRIST!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m going!” Minion #47 rolled his eyes. “No need to get your knickers in a bunch.” Then he hung up the phone. “Hmm…” he said to the minion at the wheel, tapping his nails on his saucer. “What do I do now? I remember Mr. Andrews going over this protocol, but he was wearing a wonderful hat that day and all I could think about was where I could get one like that. And he left before I could ask him! Isn’t that silly of me?”

The minion at the wheel, who we shall call Billy, could do nothing but shake in his boots. It was his first time at the wheel. Mr. Andrews hadn’t prepared him for this kind of responsibility. Cappy had trained him on it, and… it hadn’t been helpful.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO TWO WEEKS AGO*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“And this is the wheel,” Cappy sighed, gesturing toward the ship’s wheel. “You know what a wheel does?”

Billy frowned. “Navigate direction?”

Cappy giggled at the silly long words Billy was using. “No, silly! T.W.S.A.S.!”

“What does that mean?”

“The Wiggles Starts At Seven!”

“What?”

 

Cappy checked his watch. “I’m tired of training. Mr. A will fill you in on the rest, probably. Do you want to come play Mario Party with me?”

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASH FORWARD TWO WEEKS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Billy sighed. He probably shouldn’t have accepted Cappy’s invitation. Mr. A did not fill him in on the rest. He did provide snacks while Billy and Cappy played what turned out to be a three-hour long session of Mario Party, but that was beside the point.

Meanwhile, Officer Murdoch decided enough tomfoolery was enough. He sprinted from his spot on the deck and ran to the bridge. Minion #47 opened the door but continued to stand in the doorway, blocking Murdoch from entering.

“Iceberg, right ahead!” Minion #47 shouted worthlessly.

“I fucking know,” Murdoch snapped. “Why do you think I ran here?”

“Whoa, be careful not to spill my tea, there! And I don’t know, really. Sometimes I don’t think before I speak. How’s your mum?”

“HARD A’ STARBOARD!” Murdoch shouted to Billy.

“HARD A’ STARBOARD!” Minion #47 shouted.

Billy began turning the wheel frantically, hoping the direction he chose was “starboard.” Though to him it sounded like a board on Mario Party.

“Why did you repeat what I _just_ said? Don’t you have a job to do right now? Don’t you have to signal the thing to the engine room?” Murdoch asked.

“Murdoch, I have a process. Before I can do anything, I need to have my cuppa tea, sit down, and have a nice cha--”

Murdoch rolled his eyes and whipped himself around to face the other direction, making sure to jostle Minion #47 on the way by grabbing his elbow and moving his tea-holding arm up and down and right and left and side to side and diagonal.

“My tea!” Minion #47 murmured forlornly as his tea sloshed all over his arm/coat/shoes/life.

Murdoch ran to the engine room telegraph to signal Full Speed Astern. Aka DO MINION #47’s JOB. Not that Murdoch was bitter. Not at all.

Meanwhile, down in the engine room, British Emeril had just made some soup.

“It’s really quite simple,” British Emeril was saying to his friend and colleague, Rupert. “You see, first you chop the onion and saute it in some butter.”

“How much butter?” Rupert asked, taking notes.

“Oh, a tablespoon or two. You don’t need a lot. And then you add some shallots, some leeks, some garlic… you really just want to develop flavor at this point. Once everything’s soft and translucent, just add the stock and simmer it on this steam manifold for fifteen minutes or so. Toast some bread with a little cheese, dip it in there, and you’ll have yourself a great, basic onion soup that you can whip up at a moment’s notice while you’re working in the engine room!”

“Marvelous! You should have a show on the Food Network!”

British Emeril paused. “Do you really think so?”

“I’d watch it every day.”

British Emeril smiled. Rupert was always encouraging his culinary conquests. “Would you like some, old chap?”

“I’d love some!” Rupert held out the bowl he’d brought in his pocket for just this occasion.

When British Emeril began ladeling in the soup, he heard a sudden noise. The engine room telegraph! It moved! To Full Speed Astern! He looked down at his potentially prize-winning onion soup. He had a job to do.

“Hold up!” he shouted, throwing the soup across the room and breaking the ladle in half and smashing Rupert’s only bowl on the ground below. “FULL ASTERN! Go, minions! Go!” The minions rushed to follow their orders.

While they bustled, British Emeril looked sadly at the remains of his soup on the ground. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t a chef. He could never be a chef. This would always be his life.

Meanwhile, Billy, who had been turning the wheel for several minutes at this point, finally reached the point where the wheel could turn no more. “Hard over!” he called to Murdoch, hoping to god that that meant something. It was the one thing he’d learned from Mr. Andrews, and it wasn’t even a lesson meant for him.

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO TWO WEEKS AGO*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“I hate Handcar Havoc!” Cappy shouted when it was revealed that he lost. “I was turning as hard as I could to make the curve, but I fell off anyway.” He looked over at Billy, who looked down, ashamed. Billy was his teammate and he had let him down.

“Do you know what it’s called when you’re turning as hard as you can, EJ?” Mr. Andrews asked.

Cappy paused for a moment, trying to remember his flashcards. He appeared to be on the verge of an answer, but all at once he sighed and leaned back on the couch. “No.”

“Hard over. Think of it like this: You’ve turned until you don’t have to turn anymore. The hard part is over.”

Cappy smiled. “I like that.”

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASH FORWARD TWO WEEKS*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, the head burly minion, Fred, noticed the red light turn on. “Shut all the dampers!” he shouted to his sexy crew. “Shut them!”

The sexy crew worked furiously.

British Emeril’s crew worked furiously.

“Now!” British Emeril shouted. “Engage the reversing engine!” There was a long moment of suspense as the engine… reversed. Idk. I’m not too familiar with this technology. I was a carpenter.

British Emeril’s minion was spinning the wheel as fast as he could, but apparently it wasn’t fast enough. “Move aside! Let me use my whisking arm!” he shouted, pushing the minion away and spinning the wheel himself. Everyone looked on in awe at British Emeril’s skill. The reverse engine boinged at his touch and began reversing. Or whatev.

Meanwhile, the crew on the deck looked on in anticipation.

“Why aren’t they turning?!?!?!?!?!?!?!” Jerry asked. “I can smell ice, you know! And it smells really icy right now! Can’t they tell?”

Murdoch watched the stern in anxiety and anticipation. “Is it hard over?” he asked.

“Probably, idk,” Billy replied.

Murdoch faced forward again, eyeing the iceberg. “Come on… come on… come on…” he chanted. A minion standing directly on the stern, trying to recreate Jack and Rose’s iconic flying scene from a few hours ago, hopped back on deck when he saw how close the iceberg was. “It’s gonna hit!” he shouted.

And then it happened. The iceberg crashed into the ship.

Mr. Andrews was seated at his inventing desk, simultaneously reading, writing, reviewing the blueprints for the ship, and inventing microwave popcorn. He had just tucked a sullen EJ into bed and settled in with a glass of wine, but this shudder running through the ship changed everything. He looked up at the shaking baubles on the light fixture. The time had come. The time had come.

“HARD A’ PORT!” Murdoch shouted to Billy.

“HARD A’ PORT!” Minion #47 shouted for no reason. Murdoch vowed to murder him.

Billy sighed. God damn it, he thought. The hard part was clearly _not_ over. He began turning the wheel in the other direction.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“Jack,” I said, keeping my eye on the giant block of ice floating by the ship, “I think some shit is going down.”

“DO YOU SEE THEIR FACES?” Jack asked. I turned around. He had used Cal’s toolkit to bust a crack through the floorboards of the deck and was peering through it to see the cargo room we’d just left. “Water burst through the walls and knocked ‘em off their feet! Their faces! Oh my god! They’re drowning right now, so it’s not as funny, but you can still see their faces if you want to come take a quick look.”

“No! I don’t care about their fucking faces!”

Jack looked up, ready to try and convince me otherwise, but stopped when he saw the GIANT ICE CUBE headed our way. “Look out!” He did the old arm-in-front-of-someone’s-chest move and snuck a feel of my breastage in the process. I approved.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Water burst through the burly minions’ boiler room. They tossed and turned and swam and grabbed, looking for something to hold on to as the water whisked them away into the night.

“Oh no! The burly minions!” Murdoch remembered. He ran back to the bridge. Minion #47, who had just got himself another cup of tea, moved the _fuck_ out of Murdoch’s way. He wasn’t about relive this shit again.

Murdoch ran past Billy, who was still trembling and holding the wheel, and pressed the “FLEE, BURLY MINIONS!” button. They knew what it meant.

The watertight doors--the burly minions’ only escape--began to close, but they weren’t afraid.

“COME ON THEN, MATES!” Fred shouted. “GO! GET OUT! G’DAY!” He slapped each of his minions on the bum as they departed, fighting their way through the water with all of their muscular might. When nearly every minion had escaped, Fred shimmied his way through the doors just as they closed. The minion after him was not so lucky. No one would ever pat his bum again, the unlucky minion realized, watching the doors seal his fate to a watery death.

The burly minions in the other boiler room ran to the closing watertight doors with all their might.

Burly Minion #14, who we shall call Steve, was running toward the doors at full speed when he spotted his friend, Burly Minion #32, who we shall call Evel Knievel. Evel was leaning against a pipe, eating an apple.

“Wtf, mate?” Steve asked. “The watertight doors are closing! Fred isn’t even here to pat our bums! Come on!”

“Ehhhhhhhhhh,” Evel said, taking a bite from the apple, “I’m not finished yet.”

“You’re down the core! You’re done! Let’s go!”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Evel took another bite of his apple as he watched Steve run through the doors. He chewed, swallowed, and then looked down at his apple core. “Ite, I guess I can go now. Oh, there’s a cigarette butt. Some litter bug must have been littering here. I’ll just pick this up and… okay, I guess it’s ti--oh, is that a penny? No, just a button. Might as well pick it up all the same.” He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

Then, taking a deep breath, he eyed the door, then sprinted toward it with all his might. Evel dove through the tiny crack left and just managed to get most of his body through. But his leg was still in the doorway! And the door was closing! Oh my gah! Oh my gah!

But it wasn’t a problem for Evel. He deftly maneuvered his leg through the crack, and the door slammed shut not one second later. Evel had made it.

Up in the watchtower, Tom looked at Jerry with disappointment. “Smell ice, can ya? BLEEDING CHRIST,” he said, taking the name of me in vain. I do not approve. I bled for your sins, buddy.

Murdoch watched as all the “FLEE, BURLY MINIONS!” lights lit up. He waited until all of them were lit up like a Christmas tree before he slowly turned back around. He looked at Minion #47. “Note the time. Enter it in the log, for fuck’s sake.”

Minion #47 looked behind him before looking back at Murdoch, he then pointed to himself before asking, “Me?”

He just jumped to the top of Murdoch’s To Kill list.

**~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV~*~*~*~**

I was just on my way back to my room, happy as a peach, when suddenly everything started shaking! Idk what happened, as I have no previous ship captain experience, or any work experience for that matter. I hardly have any life experience. Mr. Andrews promised me this would be an easy job! All I had to do was memorize key phrases!

“Captain!” One of the minions grabbed onto my arm and shook it.

I frowned. “Ouch. Please don’t do that.”

“Capatin! What’s going on? Did we hit a berg?”

“A what?”

“A berg!”

“A what now?”

“An iceberg!”

“Sorry?”

“An _iceberg!”_

“Isn’t that some kind of lettuce?” I grinned. “Mr. Andrews puts iceberg lettuce on my tuna salad sandwiches. He stopped cutting the crust off for me a year ago though… he claimed I was a big boy now and had to learn how to eat crust, but what's your--”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?” the minion yelled. I stopped mid-sentence, my eyes welling up with tears and my throat burning. Why was this man being so mean to me? I thought we were having a pleasant conversation! I was just about to ask him what _his_ favorite kind of sandwich was.

“I--I…” I stuttered, sniffling quietly.

“GO SEE WHAT HAPPENED!” the mean minion yelled, literally pushing me back towards the bridge. I stumbled over my untied shoelaces, wishing I had my velcro sneaks on, but let the minion push me back out onto the bridge. I looked around, making awkward eye contact with Murdoch, my pal Billy, and Minion #47.

“Um…” I mumbled, looking down at my untied laces. “So… what um, what happened?” I asked, looking back over at Murdoch. He was a smart man, maybe he knew what the heck was going on.

“An iceberg, sir,” he responded.

“Mhmm…” I nodded, trying to piece it together in my head. Was somebody throwing iceberg lettuce at the side of the ship? It kind of sounded like a Mario Party mini-game to me. I could picture it now: Yoshi, Luigi, Peach, and Wario all on an island, throwing whole iceberg lettuces at the side of the ship every time it passed until it finally sank.

Billy and I will have to discuss the details later.

Suddenly, Murdoch started speaking Ship to me. “I put her hard to starboard, but it was too close. I tried to port round it, but… she hit.” My eyes widened. Didn’t he know I was still learning? I wasn’t fluent yet! Having no idea what he said and internally panicking, I tried to pick the correct memorized phrase to say to him.

Okay… _‘she hit’_ leads me to believe we hit something… so I guess _we_ hit the lettuce, not the other way around… if I do the sum in my head, that leads me to: “Close the FLEE, BURLY MINIONS! doors!” I exclaimed, smiling proudly and standing tall.

I barely finished getting the words out before Murdoch was already nodding. “They’re closed, sir!”

Oh.

I nodded slowly, realizing that I was going to have to try and speak Ship back to him. I took a deep breath in before beginning to mumble, “Bearings… nautical miles… galley… helm…”

**~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV~*~*~*~**

What the heck was he saying?

Jesus Christ, was everyone on this ship a fucking moron?!?!?!?!

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Stop taking my name in vain.

**~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV~*~*~*~***

“...Current... tide... privileged vessel…” I continued, now counting them off on my fingers. Once I reached ten, I stopped and smiled at Murdoch. “K? k.” I nodded again. Before Murdoch could respond, I quickly turned and scurried away. I was heading towards Mr. Andrew’s room, which was adjoined to mine, but I quickly realized that Murdoch was following me.

“All stop!” I hollered, wanting Murdoch to stop following me.

“Aye sir!” one of the minions hollered from below.

Oh. Well, that’s not what I meant, but okay. Trying to make it look like I _hadn’t_ been running away from my problems, I busied myself by inspecting things. I walked towards the end of the little hallway type deal and looked over the ledge, down at the ocean below.

Mhmm… yep, all seems okay there.

I took a peek behind me and Mr. Murdoch was still watching. I slowly turned around and looked over the railing to my right, which looked down at the decks below.

Aw, there was a cute little couple down there.

Look at all that snow on the deck! Maybe after I’m done doing whatever it is I’m _doing_ now (I really dk) Mr. Andrews will let me put on my snow gear and play in it for a bit. I knew it was close to my bedtime, but... SNOW!!! I took another peek to my left and noticed Mr. Murdoch was looking at me expectantly.

“Um…” I mumbled. I had spoke just about every phrase I knew in Ship at him already. I closed my eyes, trying to picture some of the key phrases Mr. Andrews had written down in Chapter 13 of my Welcome Aboard! package. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to imagine what the book had looked like.

****

Chapter 13: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!  
 _Don’t worry, little guy. I’ve built you a solid ship! But it was thought, by some, that we didn’t need as many life boats as I wanted… so just in case anything were to happen… memorize the following phrases. Remember that I love you!_

My eyes shot open, suddenly remembering one of the phrases. “Have the carpenter sound the ship!”

“Aye, sir,” Murdoch said before scurrying off.

“BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I cheered and did a little kick once he had scurried. I was _such_ a good captain! “Hey, Billy, what time do you get off? Are you down for a quick Mario Party sesh before bedtime?”

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Meanwhile, wayyyyyyyyyyy down below the decks in the slums, Fabrizio Italy was awoken from his sleep. He sat up, confused as to why everything was shaking, but didn’t know how to communicate this to his roommates.

See, his roommates were Swedish but he himself was Italian.

Fabby spoke a little bit of English.

His two roommates--let’s call them Ikea and Smorgasbord--also spoke a little bit of English.

But when you put their two versions of broken English together as one… well, let’s just say they had problems understanding each other. Because of this, Fabby sighed and sat up in bed, deciding that he’d just go see what all the fuss was about himself. He swung his legs over the side of his top bunk (suck it, Jack!) and jumped down.

But what he didn’t expect was to land in _water!_ Icy cold water! Water that felt like it had just come out of a freezer! _Icy._ “Alfredo sauce!” Fabby cursed loudly, throwing a shoe at Ikea’s bunk. “Crushed tomatoes in a can!” he yelled in Italian, wanting the other two to wake up and see what had happened to their room.

“ABBA!” Ikea cursed, after being suddenly woken up by a filthy shoe that was dripping in water. “Absolut Vodka?” he asked, glaring at Fabby.

“Water!” Fabby exclaimed, gesturing down at his feet. “We’re here in AMERRRRICCAAAA.” That was the only explanation that Fabby could think of; he was told that God himself could not sink this ship. At least that’s what he _thought_ he heard. It may have been something else entirely. He’s better at listening than he is at speaking though… so he’s pretty sure. This must be how they tell the poor people that they had arrived.

“We go! We go now!” Fabby exclaimed, the excitement shown in his voice. “We see statue of liberty! Very big now! Rome!”

Ikea nodded, and then proceeded to tell Smorgasbord in Swedish that they had arrived at their destination. The two Swedes then followed Fabby out into the hallway, also excited that they had already arrived at their destination. They were definitely going to make headlines now! Ikea and Smorgasbord stopped abruptly though when Fabby paused in the doorway.

“Swedish Fish?” Ikea asked, attempting English again.

“Come on! Let’s get the ‘ell out of ‘ere!” Tommy Ryan hollered, running past them carrying literally everything he owned in his big Irish hands. Tommy, Jack and Fabby had struck up a deal late one night and had decided to split everything they owned equally. They were a democracy now. So Tommy was carrying a lot of stolen items.

Meanwhile, wayyyyyyyyyy up in first class, some rich bitch was wandering the halls. We’ll call her Martha. Martha was in the middle of counting and reorganizing her money, her nightly ritual, when she had felt a shudder. Confused, she began wandering the halls looking for a minion to ask. Relief washed over her when she finally spotted one, let’s call him Paul. “Bitch? Why have the engines stopped? I felt a shudder,” she demanded, glaring at Paul.

“Ahhhhhh, shouldn’t worry, madam! We’ve likely thrown a propeller blade! Or somebody has thrown a bunch of lettuce at us! It’s no biggie, really. God himself could not sink this ship! Srsly, you’re panicking for no reason.”

“Oh, okay,” Martha said, nodding. “I mean, I wasn’t really panicking? I thought I was relatively calm about this situation, all things considered.”

They continued this conversation for another few minutes. As it turns out, Martha was actually a polite rich bitch, even to her minions. But that’s not the focus right now! At the other end of the hallway, Mr. Andrews was walking with purpose, heading towards the bridge. In his arms he had literally every drawing and blueprint of the Titanic he owned, as well as a copy of the Emergency Protocol and his “I TOLD YOU SO!!!!” shirt that he would change into once Ismay was near.

He fucking _told_ that bitch.

Anyway, we’ll get back to that.

Back in the slums of the ship, all of the poor people were scrambling around like eggs. Not that they’ve ever had eggs, but it’s just an expression. Tommy was leading the pack, because he was Irish and loud and his voice traveled well, but the true leader of this pack was the rats.

The rats (literal rats. We aren’t calling the poor people rats right now) were scurrying to try and get to the lifeboats in time. Team Leader Tommy sensed that some of his disciples were starting to question him, questioning on whether or not he was going the right way and why the Olive Garden waiter got to walk next to him during this charge. So to stop a mutiny from happening, he calmly stated, “If this is the direction the rats are goin’, it’s good enough for me, boyos!”

Everyone felt comforted and accepted this as a reasonable answer.

Thank gah Tommy stepped up in a time of crisis.

Anyway, back upstairs in rich bitch land, _Bruce Ismay_ was now roaming the halls. He was doing up his dressing gown while his ugly maroon slippered covered feet carried him towards his destination. His mustache was flapping in the wind as he paced around angrily. He didn’t quite understand how ships work, considering this whole _thing_ was Mr. Andrews’ idea, but he knew something was… off.

But in the next hallway over, Cal ripped the door to 52/54/56 open and angrily stopped out into the hallway. His wig was _kiiiiind_ of askew now--anger tended to do that to him--and he appeared as though he had just finished another round of his evil laughter but no one could know for sure. “You!” Cal yelled, pointing at an annoyed looking minion. We’ll call him Ronald.

“Sir,” Ronald groaned, about to repeat the same thing he had already told ten other rich bitches on his way towards the elevator right before Cal had stopped him.”There _is_ no emergency.”

Cal started angry blinking. “Wh--ye--I--” He always stuttered when he got angry (see: The Table Scene). Spicey laid a comforting hand on Cal’s shoulder, encouraging him to find his words. “Yes there _has!_ I’ve been _robbed!”_ Cal finally finished.

“Good man,” Spicey whispered at him. “Get the master at arms!” Spicey yelled at the Ronald, knowing that it would take another few minutes for Cal to spit that one out.

“Yeah! _NOW_ you moron!!!!!” Cal yelled, looking at Ronald with disgust. Ronald slowly nodded, backing away, and Cal was quick to give him the universal sign for _suck it_ by gesturing at his crotch with his palms.

Up on the deck, people were jollily kicking around a large piece of ice and laughing, not ignorant at all.

A passenger who according to the script is a young Yale man in his twenties, who we shall call Logan, came on the deck dressed in a robe. “Say, did I miss the fun?” Logan asked. “I was just making paella and I felt a shudder.”

“No, I missed it,” said his friend, who we shall call Colin. “Apparently it hit over there. But I ain’t worried. This is no cause for concern. Let’s play with this ice!”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I was getting pist.

All I wanted was to get to my and Mr. A’s adjoining rooms, find Mr. A, and talk to him about what was going on. But people kept following me! It was like a parade, and not the good kind. At first I thought it might be fun, and I instructed everyone to grab on to the hips of the person in front of them and we could do a conga line type deal, but they wouldn’t go for it!

They just kept _talking_ to me. Speaking Ship, of course. And, like, I get it. You guys are fluent. But I’m still learning. This is so unfair. So all I could do was say, “Mm hmm” and nod a lot as I scurried frantically to Mr. A’s room with them following behind me. At one point I got into a closet and shut the door, but when I came out a minute later (it was dark in there), they were all standing there, waiting. So we carried on.

And then I turned a corner and almost crashed into Mr. A! His papers went flying everywhere, but he didn’t seem to care.

“EJ! I’ve been looking for you!” Relief washed over his face when he saw me. I was glad he didn’t seem to be mad at me for the whole _I hate you_ thing. Maybe he knew I didn’t mean it.

“I’ve been looking for _you!”_ I exclaimed. “And...” I took a step forward and whispered into Mr. A’s ear, “These people keep following me. They won’t even do a conga line. I just want them to go away.”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s rough right now, EJ. But you remember what I wrote in your welcome packet? What to do when you run out of phrases to say?”

I thought back, long and hard. “Come find you. And if you aren’t around, nod and agree with whatever they say.”

Mr. A smiled. “That’s right. And I’m here now. So you don’t have to worry anymore.” He bent to pick up his papers, then stood and looked back to the group of pesky followers behind me. “Carpenter Hutchinson! Have you sounded the ship?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me your findings as we walk to the deck.”

It seemed like we were all about to start walking and talking again. Sigh.

“And if everyone could grab onto the hips of the person in front of them...” I said. It was worth a shot.

“Sir,” said Carpenter Hutchinson, “I really don’t think--”

“Mr. Hutchinson,” Mr. A said, “are you defying the direct orders of the captain of this ship? Now grab onto Captain Smith’s hips and tell me what you found when you sounded the ship!”

I grinned with glee and waited for everyone to get into conga formation. Soon we were conga-ing down the corridor in a line led by me. Everyone was speaking Ship, but it was okay. Mr. A was here now.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Jack and I passed all the merry people playing with ice. But something didn’t seem right to me. It just didn’t.

Suddenly Mr. Andrews, Cappy, and two ship minions came storming past us in a conga line. As they moved, kicking a leg to the side every three steps, they talked in worried tones.

“Boiler Room 6 is flooded eight feet above the plate and the nail hold is worse. She’s all buckled in in the forward pump,” one of them was saying.

I saw Mr. Andrews look toward Cappy, as if waiting for him to say something. Cappy furrowed his brow and then said, “Can you shore up?”

Mr. Andrews broke into a grin and gave Cappy a thumbs-up.

“Not unless the pumps get ahead,” the minion replied.

“Have you seen the damage to the nail hold?” Mr. Andrews asked.

“No, she’s already under water.”

Jack and I watched them conga across the deck. “This is bad,” he said. “But this is just a guess. I could be wrong. I don’t want to assume and make an ass out of U and ME.”

“You might be r--” I stopped, catching myself just in time. Jack and I furtively glanced all around us, looking for any sign of Molly. When it appeared that we were safe, I continued, “I--I agree with your guess. We should tell Mother and Cal.”

“We? Together? How about... _you_ go tell them, and I’ll hang around here. Maybe I’ll check on Fabby and Tommy. They must be going crazy without me as their leader.”

“No, Jack, no. We should tell them. Together. We should hold hands as they do it.”

“I just feel like they won’t like the idea of you and me announcing our love _while_ we tell them something went wrong with the ship. They might focus on _us_ instead of the problems with the ship. You feel?”

“No!” I shouted. “No, I do not feel! We are telling them together and that’s final!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite,” Jack said. “I guess. I suppose. I feel like this won’t go over well, but... ite.”


	7. Part Seven

***~*~*~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~***

So the master at arms finally arrived and I showed him Jack’s sketchbook. I hoped maybe he could sniff Jack’s drawings to get his scent and then go find him, but he was too fascinated by the drawings.

“I think they’re very good, sir!” he said. “Can I keep a few? I could get off to these.”

“He won’t amount to a thing!” I shouted, snatching the drawings away from him. Then I saw a minion putting his grubby hands on a chair. “Don’t touch anything! I want the entire room photographed!”

“Which one?” the minion asked. “Suite 52, suite 54, suite 56...?”

“All of them at once! The room! Of Suite 52/54/56!” Did these bitches not know _anything?_ UGG. It is so difficult to be me.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So we were walking down the corridor, holding hands. I’d also given us matching neck tattoos that said “ROSE + JACK 4EVER.” I did it with a Sharpie, but I figured I’d have a minion acquire a tattoo kit and go over it later.

I saw Lovejoy lurking in the hallway. “We’ve been looking for you, miss,” he said. We ignored him and kept on walking, our heads held up high to show off our neck tattoos. At one point Lovejoy got awfully close to us, but that’s not weird at all.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

OH MY GAH. So I’m just walking down the hallway, minding my own business, when Lovejoy drops the HEART OF THE FUCKING OCEAN in my pocket. I AM SO RICH OH MY GAH. He must have liked my resume! Is this a signing bonus? Oh my GAH.

He didn’t say anything about it, so I figured he’d want to keep it on the DL. I certainly wasn’t about to ruin that. Whatev my new boss wants, he’s going to get.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

We arrived in Suite 52/54/56, and Lovejoy shut the door behind us. Jack and I held our clasped hands high, just in case anyone missed it. I also moved my neck around a lot to emphasize the tattoo. I wanted everything out in the open.

“Something serious has happened,” I began.

“Yes, it has,” Cal said. He looked over at Lovejoy, who winked at him, made a heart shape with his hands, pointed over at the pocket of Jack’s coat, then winked again.   
“Indeed,” Cal said. “Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that one is back... I have a pretty good idea where to find the other.” He settled his eyes on Jack.

“Aw, really!” Jack said. “Me? I’m so honored. I just want you to know that I’m thrilled to work for you and Lovejoy, and if there’s anything I can do--”

“Search him!” Cal demanded.

“Take your coat off, son,” the master at arms said.

The walls began to rattle. The lights flickered. I looked around the room in horror. “Did anyone say it? No one said it, right? Molly couldn’t possibly come, could she?”

As if on cue, Molly kicked down the front door and thundered into the room. “YOU ARE NOT RIGHT!” she bellowed, narrowing her eyes at the master at arms. “He is not your son. He is MY son. Do you understand me? Are we clear?”

The master at arms looked down. “It’s just... he’s just so talented; I thought it might be nice for him to have a father figure in his life.”

“I AM HIS FATHER FIGURE! I am his mother, his father, his sister, and his brother. Do you hear me?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, “it won’t happen again.”

“Damn straight, sonny. That’s right, I just adopted you, too. Deal with it.” And with that, she turned around and left the room.

That stunned us for a moment, but soon a minion had taken off Jack’s coat while the master at arms patted down Jack’s pockets.

“Cal,” I said, “what are you doing? We’re in the middle of an emergency; what’s going on?”

“Is this it?” the minion asked, pulling the diamond necklace out of Jack’s coat pocket. Out of the pocket the minion also pulled out $40.21.

“That’s it,” Cal said, reaching for the necklace.

“This is horseshit!” Jack shouted. “You just hired me! I didn’t steal it. Don’t you believe it, Rose, don’t!”

I looked at Jack. “He... he said he had ten dollars in his pocket. This can’t be his. He couldn’t have that much money _and_ the diamond.”

“Of course he could,” Cal said. “It’s easy enough for a professional.”

“Thank you!” Jack said, genuinely touched.

“But I was with him the whole time. This is absurd!”

“Perhaps he did it while you were putting your clothes back _on,_ dear.” I tilted my head in consideration. That was a decent burn. Alright, I’ll give him a point.

“Real slick, Cal,” Jack said, hoping to get back into the good graces of his boss. “Rose, they put it in my pocket! They were hiring me!”

“Shut up!” Cal barked.

“It isn’t even your pocket, is it, son?” said Lovejoy.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Molly Brown came crashing through a window and landed on all fours on the floor. “What did I just say?” she asked, standing up and brushing the broken glass off her dress.

“He’s my boss; it’s fine,” Jack said quickly, jumping to Lovejoy’s defense.

“It is not fine. He is no one’s son but mine. Understood?” She stared Lovejoy down until he averted his gaze and nodded. Then Molly calmly walked the door, opened it, and slipped out of the room.

After an awkward silence, Lovejoy continued speaking. “Property of A. L. Ryerson,” he said, holding up the label of the coat.

“That was reported stolen today,” the master at arms said.

“I just borrowed it,” Jack said. “I was gonna return it.”

He was going to return it? But what about the life we were going to live together, making money from his stolen goods? Is Jack not the thief I thought he was? Why would he hide his $40.21 from me? And he’s saying he didn’t even steal the diamond, either? Why doesn’t he want to provide for me?

“Oh, an honest thief!” Cal laughed. “We have an honest thief here, do we?”

Jack got all up in my face as the master at arms started to cuff him. “You know I didn’t do this, Rose. You _know_ it! Don’t you believe them, Rose, you know it! You know I didn’t do it, Rose!”

“Stop shouting my name at me!”

“Come on, son, come on,” said the master at arms, starting to pull him backward out of the room. Then the room exploded into chaos, as Molly burst through one of the walls and began yelling at the master at arms, while he continued to pull Jack out of the room and call him a good lad, while Jack yelled at _me,_ “You know I didn’t do it! You KNOW me!”

There was so much yelling I couldn’t think straight. I _thought_ the person I knew was a poor thief. Now it turns out Jack is a secret rich bitch who doesn’t steal anymore. I could feel my erection deflating with each passing second. If both men in my life are rich bitches, I may as well stay with Cal since he smells better. Idk what to do about Jack now. When this ship docks... I might not get off with him.

**~*~*~*Cappy’s POV~*~*~**

So then we all happily conga’d into one of Mr. Andrew’s debriefing rooms and then let go of each other’s hips. I frowned for a second, realizing the fun was over but quickly turned my frown upside down when I realized Mr. Andrews was about to school some bitches. I watched as Mr. A went up to one of the writing desks and swept his arm across it, knocking everything off onto the floor.

I grinned with glee. I’ve always wanted to do that! I eagerly crouched down and began picking up the items Mr. A had swept off, but he was quick to put a hand on my shoulder and stop me. “What’re you doing, buddy?” he asked.

“Oh, I--it just looked like so much fun? I thought... “

“Hmm?” he pressed, smiling fondly at me.

“I thought maybe we could put all the items back and then… _I_ could do that thing? With my arm?”

Mr. Andrews chuckled quietly before nodding, thrusting his papers into one of the minion’s arms so he could help me set the desk back up. A few minutes passed before we were finally done and Mr. A stepped back and gestured his hand out for me to do my thing. My eyes lit up again and, in the heat of the moment, I yelled, “ARRRRGHHHH!!!!!” as I swept everything off in one motion with my hand.

I cackled loudly and turned back to Mr. A, who nodded in approval before grabbing his papers out of the minion’s hand and spreading them out on the desk. I stepped back, happy as a pear, and watched him drop knowledge on these idiots. “Water… fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes,” he said, placing his hand down on the fancy looking drawing. “In the forepeak, all three holds and boiler room six,” he continued, speaking fluently in ship and pointing out different things on his fancy drawing. 

I sighed quietly, wishing I could at least follow along with what he was saying.

“That’s right, sir.” One of the minions nodded, confirming what Mr. A clearly already knew.

Then, Mr. Butthead spoke up. “When can we get underway, dammit!”

Mr. Andrews’ jaw dropped, “Did you not hear a fucking word I just said, you dick?” Then he removed his coat, his tie and his cufflinks before unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt and removing it. He handed it to me to make me feel important. It worked. I didn’t know how to fold clothes the way he liked it, so I just held it in my arms. Then he shook out his bright red tshirt and slipped it on over his head.

My eyes widened and I giggled quietly when I realized Mr. Andrews is wearing the “I TOLD YOU SO!!!” shirt that _I made_ for him during Arts  & Crafts the other day!

Mr. Andrews turned around towards Mr. Butthead and gestured at his shirt.

“Is that directed at me?” Ismay asked, raising his ugly eyebrows.

“Yes.”

Mr. Butthead rolled his eyes before mumbling, “@ me next time,” under his breath.

_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap._

“AT YOU? YOU WANT ME TO AT YOU?” Mr. Andrews yelled, grabbing another rolled up map and hitting Mr. Butthead over the head with it. Then he grabbed a sharpie off the floor and managed to write, in perfect lettering, “TO: BRUCE ISMAY” on the shirt without even taking it off. Mr. Butthead was not impressed. “Better?” Mr. A asked sassily.

Mr. Butthead was silent.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” Mr. A sighed, going back to his drawings. “That’s _five_ compartments. She can stay afloat with four compartments breached, but not five,” he said, speaking ship again. He looked at me and I blinked back at him. He knew I was confused. so he repeated slowly, _“Not five.”_

I nodded. “Not five.”

“Very good, EJ,” Mr. Andrews said, nodding in approval, and then went back to speaking ship. “As she goes down by the head, the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads at E deck, from one… to the next… back and back, and back and back… and back… until there’s no more back to go. Because the ship will be sunk. There’s no stopping it--”

“The pumps!” I declared, remembering another phrase from my book.

“The pumps buy you _time,_ EJ, but that was a very good suggestion!” He smiled at me. “Very well done! But… from this moment, no matter what we do… Titanic will founder.”

Gaspitys were heard all around. I didn’t quite understand what founder meant so I didn’t gaspity. “Did you mean flounder?” I asked, remembering the dinner Mr. Andrews had prepared a few nights ago. “Because I thought you said I didn’t have to eat that again... “

“No silly, not _flounder.”_ Mr. Andrews chucked my chin; as in, he gently pinched my chubby chin between his fingers. This had nothing to do with the shiny one from Simple Plan. “I know you didn’t like it but you were a brave little boy and tried it anyway, didn’t you?”

“I did.” I nodded, proud of my previous food endeavors.

“But this ship can’t sink!” Mr. Butthead butted into our conversation like the butthead he was. “God himself could not sink this--”

“She’s made of iron, you fucking idiot, I assure you she can!” Mr. Andrews quickly cut him off. My eyes widened at his grown-up language. “And she _will._ It is a mathematical certainty. I _know_ because I _created mathematics,_ so don’t fucking challenge me on that,” he said, glaring Mr. Butthead down. “And because _you_ thought the deck would looked too _cluttered,_ there _aren’t_ enough lifeboats for everybody. Bet you’re regretting that decision, _aye pal?”_

The way Mr. Andrews said pal made me believe they were _not pals._

“Yeah!” I piped up, wanting to defend Mr. A’s honor. “Suck it!”

“Thank you, EJ.” Mr. Andrews grinned at me.

“So…. you said this ship will sink?” I asked. “Do you have a… _time frame_ for that? Because… I’m kind of tired. I missed my nap earlier, and then I had to spend all that time on the bridge, and then we hit that _thing_ in the water and now I’m _here,_ so--”

“An hurr,” Mr. Andrews said, cutting off my rambling. “Two at most.”

I sighed loudly, I was _so tired._

I thought back to what Mr. Andrews had said about lifeboats, and then thought back to my welcome packet, and then thought back to how tired I was, and then thought back to that episode of the Wiggles when the blue one got a hair cut. That had nothing to do with this current situation, but man that was a good eppy.

“So… how many people are on board?” I asked, wanting to get this show on the road so that I could go to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight.

Mr. Murdoch, who had been silently killing bitches this whole time, finally spoke up. “2,200 souls on board, sir.” I nodded quietly, trying to do the sum in my head for a moment before I realized I had no idea what I was trying to accomplish. This was Mr. A’s time to shine, not mine.

So then I thought back to my breakfast this morning of oatmeal with cranberries mixed into it and how good that was, and then that reminded me of that one time that I was eating breakfast and Mr. Butthead had scooted up a chair next to me and pressured me to make the boat go faster, all the while twisting his gross mustache.

I looked at Mr. Andrews, silently asking permission to be sassy.

He, of course, understood and nodded his approval.

I cleared my throat twelve times before looking Mr. Butthead right in his shit browns and proudly stating, “I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Butt--Mr. Ismay.”

“BURN!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Cal exclaimed, bouncing into the room and high fiving me before running back out, muttering something about business he needed to attend to.

**~*~*~*~Cal’s POV~*~*~*~**

So then I was back in my suite(s), posing in the doorway and about to tend to my business. Rose stood near the door, sighing loudly and asking me to _“Get on with it, Cal!”_ every few minutes, but I was not done posing yet. I had practiced my stance with Lovejoy a few times before everyone had gathered to see our flawless plan go down and expose Jack for the filth he was. So I was going to savor this moment.

“Cal, seriously,” Rose groaned. “It’s been like, ten minutes and you’re still just standing there in the doorway!”

“Oh, you wanna get _sassy?”_ I asked, raising my eyebrow wigs at her.

“Alls I’m saying is that if you’re gonna yell at me, just yell at me! Stop posing!”

“Fine!” I huffed, breaking my perfect form and walking over to her. I stood in front of her and she looked at me with this stupid look, challenging me because she knew I stumbled a bit when I was angry and I was having trouble spitting my words out. “I--you--with filth--”

“T-t-t-today, junior,” Rose rolled her eyes.

I glared, angrily putting another point down next to her name before I slapped the bitch for stepping out of line. Literally. I literally slapped her. And she’s being a bitch right now, so therefore I slapped the bitch.

Bitch.

“Don’t got shit to say now, _do you?”_ I said, without fumbling over my words once. I was getting better. But Rose, no matter how much she denies it, is just as dramatic as I am, so she kept her head turned to the side for about five minutes. I shook her violently. “You look at me when I’m talking to you! I’m the only poser here!” I said, then thought better of it. “Poser as in I like to strike a pose, not as in like… Avril Lavigne.”

“AVRIL LAVGINE IS NOT A POSER AND IS A VERY TALENTED ARTIST!” Rose yelled.

“YOU AND I DIFFER ON THE DEFINITION OF FINE ART, HAVEN’T WE FUCKING ESTABLISHED THAT? LIKE THREE TIMES ALREADY? CHRIST.”

“Cal,” Rose sighed loudly. “I’m thinking about picking you, okay? I know I _kiiiinda_ cheated on you and then _kiiiinda_ rubbed it in your face--metaphorically speaking, of course. That wouldn’t be very sanitary otherwise. But now that Jack _apparently_ stole my necklace and won’t even _own up to it,_ I mean, ugh, I might as well choose you, right?”

“Don’t do me any favors!” I huffed. “I’m a treat! You’d be lucky to have me!” Then suddenly a minion knocked on the door and opened it, without even waiting for me to yell, _“Come in!”_ How fucking rude. “Not now! We’re busy!” I demanded at the minion.

“I’ve been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelts and come up to the boat decks.”

“I said _not now,”_ I repeated. Clearly this minion had hearing problems. If I had paid more attention in sign language class, that Mr. Andrews had forced us to attend yesterday, than maybe I could have signed it at him. But I can’t. So I won’t. “And besides, this ship can’t sink. God himself--”

“Could not sink this ship, yeah, we fucking know, Cal.” Rose rolled her eyes.

I slapped her again.

“I deserved that,” she said, nodding.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hockley, but it’s captain's orders,” the minion continued, completely unphased by the fact I just slapped my wife (in practice, not law). “Now please, dress warmly, it’s quite cold out tonight. The mayor suggests top coats, hats, gloves, scarves, long johns, three pairs of socks and a winter parka, if you have it. If not, top coats and hats will do just fine.”

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, stepping away from Rose. “I didn’t _bring_ my parka.”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I stood unmoving, my hand still pressed to my cheek from where Cal had slapped me twice. If he slapped me again, I was going to drop kick him and then give him the People’s Elbow, which is a very rare thing in this day and age considering it was a move made famous by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, who has not been born yet. Oh, time travel.

“Not to worry, miss. I’m--I’m sure it’s just a precaution.”

“Did I say you could fucking speak to me?” I said, glaring at him. “Do you want the People’s Elbow?”

Fucking _minions._

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“EVERYBODY UP! PUT YOUR LIFEBELTS ON!” the minions roared to everyone in the third-class rooms, kicking down every door and throwing the lifebelts around each room.

Cora sleepily awoke from a dream in which Jack was telling her she was his best girl.

“What’s he on about?” asked Cora’s poppa.

The minion who had just kicked down their door popped his head back into their room. “PUT YOUR LIFEBELTS ON!”

“Can I get any context, or…”

“PUT YOUR LIFEBELTS ON!”

The minion continued down the hallway, shouting, “PUT YOUR LIFEBELTS ON!” at anyone who dared make eye contact with him. He’d show them. He’d show them all.

**~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Mr. A had given me some homework before my next eppy of The Wiggles.

I had to go to the wireless room and give Phillips some numbers to… wire. I don’t know how it works. And I don’t care. I’m tired, and I’m cranky, and I just want to go to my room and snuggle in my bed.

And I don’t like Phillips. He questions my authority.

I mean, he has a right to. I question my authority. But Mr. A is the one telling me to do things, so questioning my authority is like questioning Mr. A’s authority, and no one has the right to do that.

I reached Phillips’ desk and used my Anthony pencil to write down the numbers Mr. A had me memorize.

**41 46’ N  
50 14’ W**

“CQD?” Phillips questioned questioningly while I was writing.

I ignored him.

“Sir?” he asked.

“Yes, Phillips. CQD. The distress call. I’m aware of this shit. Don’t question me. And here’s our position, _bee tee dubs,”_ I said, thrusting the paper into his hand.

Phillips looked at the numbers, then back at me, then at the numbers, then at me again, all with an idiotic look on his face.

I took off my hat and sighed, looking around the room. Time to own someone else tonight. “Tell whoever responds that we’re going down by the head and need immediate assistance. Ha! Bet no one’s told you we’re sinking yet, have they? Isn’t this a fun way for you to find out? Suck my dick, bitch.”

Once, when Rose was babysitting me, she let me watch an eppy of Breaking Bad. I’ve learned a lot of new words from that show.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So Mr. Andrews went on the deck to check on the whole lifeboat situation. He jumped down several steps like the badass he is because he built the ship and he knows the exact distance from the first step to the last one.

All he saw on the deck were the crew members fumbling around with a lifeboat. Mr. Andrews was not pleased.

“Mr. Wilde!” he shouted. “Where are the passengers?”

“They asked if we’d be serving caviar on the lifeboats, and we said no, so they’ve all gone back inside. The lifeboats aren’t rich bitch enough for them.”

Mr. Andrews turned away and looked at his pocket watch. They no longer had an hour, two at most. Time was running out.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

So Cal, Mother, and I made our way to the staircase, where Molly was owning bitches. I was careful not to say a word.

“Hey, sonny,” Molly said to one of her sons, “what’s doin’? You got us all trussed up here and now we’re cooling our heels! Don’t make me take back some of your allowance!”

“Sorry, Mum,” he said, “let me go and find out.” He began running up the stairs, but he seemed to be so afraid of the wrath of his momma that he slipped a few times on his way up.

“I don’t think anybody knows what the hell’s going on around here,” Molly said to her two random gentlemen friends. Or maybe they’re her sons, too. Idk.

“It’s the god damned English doing everything by the--” Cal stopped to swerve when a minion almost crashed into him--”book,” he finished several minutes later.

“There’s no need for language, Mr. Hockley,” Mother said.

Cal sighed and wished he had a cool momma like Molly Brown.

“Go back and turn the heaters on in our rooms,” Mother said to Trudy and… some other minion. (We got another one, I guess?) “I’d like a cup of tea when I return.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Trudy said, and she and her co-minion scurried off before I could ask them any follow-up questions.

Then Mr. Andrews walked into the room, wearing a sandwich board that read “THE END IS NIGH!” on one side and “GET TO A LIFEBOAT!” on the other.

I ran to him and caught up with him just as he was on the stairs, creating a weird illusion where he looked ten feet tall and I looked about as tall as Cora.

“Mr. Andrews, I saw the iceberg. And I see it in your eyes. And in that drawing on the sandwich board,” I said, pointing to it.

He smiled. “EJ’s so good at drawing.”

“Please tell me the truth.”

Mr. Andrews looked all around us, then took my arm and led me down the steps. Finally, we were on equal footing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cal boing with intrigue and scurry over to eavesdrop on our convo.

“The ship will sink,” Mr. Andrews said.

I gasped. “Are you certain?” I asked, doing the sum in my head.

“Yes. In an hurr or so, all this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“Can I get a maximum on that? An hour and a half? An hour and forty-five minutes?”

“An hurr, two at most.”

“Oh, gah. Ite. What time do you have? I want to make sure our watches are coordinated.” I pulled out my Avril watch and Mr. Andrews pulled out his gold pocket watch, and we compared the times. His was two minutes ahead. Well, there’s two minutes I’ve lost, I thought with a sigh, setting Avril two minutes ahead.

“Um,” Cal said, stepping in, “can we go back to the whole sinking thing? Um… what?”

“Please… tell only who you must. I don’t want to be responsible for a panic.”

Well, too late, Mr. Andrews. I was already moving my hand up to my mouth for my signature _Oh my goodness! I’m panicking!_ face. It’s me at my most beautiful.

“And get to a boat,” Mr. Andrews continued, “quickly. _Don’t wait._ You… remember what I told you, about the boats?”

In full beautiful hand-on-mouth panic mode, I nodded, looking at Mr. Andrews with wide eyes. “Yes… I understand.”

“Um,” Cal interjected, “I got a C on that pop quiz, so… can I just get a refresher on what was said about the boats? Just… a quick recap?”

I was too busy holding my _I’m in deep thought_ pose to respond to him. Cal’s not the only one who can make poses.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So I was being cuffed to a pipe at the bottom of the goddamn ship. This was below where _my_ cabins are. I didn’t think we could get further down than that.

“Over here, son,” said the master at arms as he cuffed me. Son? This bitch just does not learn. I winced, then braced myself for Molly’s inevitable arrival.

But… she didn’t come. I guess we were so far down she couldn’t find us. Or she got sick of owning the master at arms.

“Sir,” said a minion, “they need you in the second class purser’s office. There’s a big mob up there.”

“Go on,” said Lovejoy, pulling out a rifle, a pistol, a handgun, and a machete. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Ite!” The master at arms finished cuffing me, gave me a fatherly kiss on my forehead, handed Lovejoy the key, and left the room with the minion.

Lovejoy slowly walked to a chair and sat down in it, getting all cozy-like.

“So are you still my boss, or…?”

He did not answer.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I was almost to my cabin. Two hours gets me four episodes of The Wiggles, and I have five favorite episodes. It sounds crazy, but I was going to try my best to squeeze all of them in. Maybe I could skip the parts with Jeff the purple Wiggle. No one really cares about him.

“Sir!”

Aw, man.

I turned around and saw a minion from the wireless room. I kept walking, hoping he’d take the hint. He did not. He just kept walking with me.

“Carpathia says they’re making 17 knots. Full steam for them, sir.”

I shrugged at this nonsense and looked down at my watch. “She’s the only one who’s responding?”

“The only one close, sir. She says they can be here in four hours.”

I looked up. _“Four hours?!?!?!?!?!?!”_ I looked back down at my watch. If we have an hour, two at most, before we sink… and the Carpathia won’t be here for four hours…

It was hard, but I felt like it was possible. _This is what Mr. A’s pop quizzes have been for, EJ,_ I told myself. _This moment._

I pulled out my favorite pencil--of Greg, the yellow Wiggle. “We can do this, Greg,” I told him. Then I pulled out my pack of Blue’s Clues Post-Its, because I had a math mystery to solve. And I wrote:

 

**4  
-  
2  
___________**

 

I thought hard, trying to do the math. I remembered Mr. A had a flashcard exactly like this for when he quizzes me every night. I thought back to my last drill with that flashcard, just last night, and the answer came to me.

“That’s two hours too late!”

I was so proud of myself for doing the math. “Thank you,” I said to the Greg on my pencil. Then I realized the minion was still staring at me. “Thank you to you, too, Bride. You played a part in this, too.” I smiled my politest smile at him. He nodded, then left. I stood there on the deck for a moment longer, reveling in my success. “My god, I’m good.”

Anyway, I watched Bride walk away and then looked around at all the bitches surrounding me, making sure that no one else was going to stop me on my way back towards the Wiggs. After a few minutes had passed, I nodded to myself and began walking, singing a fun little tune to myself. “You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out, you put your left foot in and you shake it all about,” I sang quietly, while shaking my left foot all about.

I only made it about 5 steps (It was hard when I was constantly putting my feet in and out and shaking them all about, okay?) before suddenly Officer Lightoller bobbed and weaved through the crowd, screaming my name. “Cappy! Cappy! Mr. Cappy!”

“You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about,” I sang, nearing the gasm as I turned myself about.

“Sir! Sir! Excuse me, Captain? Hello? EJ?”

I glared at him as I continued singing, _“THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!”_ I flung my arms out and did a half-bow type deal, my finishing move. Lightoller blinked at me a few times. I sighed, realizing that there was no way I was going to be able to watch all 5 eppys before we sank. Especially if these bitches wouldn’t _let me_ be. “What do you want?” I asked grumpily.

“We are swung out and ready, sir,” he said, in perfect Ship.

“ENGLISH! SPEAK ENGLISH!” I yelled, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at him. I was so sick of all these _fluent_ bitches constantly rubbing it in my face that they knew another language. Why was everybody so mean to me?

“Hadn’t we better get the women and children into the boats, sir?” he repeated, but thankfully this time in English.

“We’re on a boat,” I said, confused.

“Sir?”

“What? Idk what you want from me,” I sighed, my right leg twitching due to it feeling left out of my hokey pokey ways. Lightoller cupped his ear, leaning in far too close to my face for my liking. I was starting to get Stranger Danger. Maybe I’ll just repeat what he said back at him. “Women and children first……… yes.”

“Yes, sir!” Lightoller nodded before slowly backing away from me.

I was now on a mission to get back to my room. I wouldn’t hokey pokey or anything on my way there; _nothing_ was stopping me this time. I had _done_ my duties as Captain for the day.

**~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Officer Lightoller raced back to the gaggle of rich bitches that were standing around being worthless. “Ladies and germs! Attention, please! Step this way please, come on now, step towards me,” he yelled, his voice straining to be heard over all the weird loud noises that were coming from the… well, actually I have _no_ idea where they’re coming from. But. Whatev. “Come on, now! Just three more steps! That’s right!” He herded them.

Anddddddd….silence.

He had found the sweet spot.

The absolutely _silent_ sweet spot.

Somehow, in the midst of all the noise and panic and confusion, there was a silence bubble that he was able to herd them all into. “Good,” Lightoller said, beaming. “Now that we’re in the silence bubble, I can whisper at you.” He cleared his throat before he continued, “For the time being I require only women and children.”

“YOU SICK BASTARD!” one of the older rich bitches yelled. “You pedophile! You creep!”

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant!” Lightoller was quick to defend his weird choice of words. “I mean… only the women and children can get on the lifeboats, okay? Sorry, men. Life’s a bitch. We’ve suddenly remembered feminism and it’s going to really fuck you over.” Lightoller shrugged.

Meanwhile, somewhere close by, a group of men carrying their instruments began setting up their stage. Because they were all men (and NOT women or children) they knew they were getting fucked by the long dick of the law, so they figured they might as well play some cheery music for everyone (including them) to die to.

Once the fat one was finished setting up their stage, the five boys looked to each other and nodded before taking their places on stage. “Alright boys, just like Cappy said, nice and cheery so there’s no panic,” the tattooed guy said to his other tattooed pals. The guitarist plugged in his guitar, which caused an awful feedback sound to go through their amps. The microphone came to life as the main guy took center stage, not to be confused with the guitarist. They were twins.

“Yeah, this song is dedicated--”

“This is Good Charlotte!” his twin butted in.

“To every kid that ever got picked last in gym class.”

“Know what I’m sayin, this is for you!” the lookalike butted in again.

“To every kid that never had a date to no school dance!”

One of the emo teenage rich bitches that was waiting for a lifeboat--we’ll call her Hayley Paramore--turned to her equally as emo buddy and said, “This song is clearly about me.”

“This is for you!” Benji confirmed.

“To everyone who’s ever been called a freak!” Joel continued. The rich bitches, confused but intrigued, began to gather around the makeshift stage as they related to the deep lyrics of this song.

“Y’all know what I’m saying!” Benji shouted in the background.

Another rich bitch, Helen, turned to rich bitch Jill and confirmed his statement. “I know what he’s saying.”

“This is for you! Here we, here we goooooooooooooo!” Joel gasmed.

Meanwhile, back down in the slums of the ship, the minion that was on lifebelt duty was still weaving his way through the slums and tossing lifebelts at all the filthy people he could find. “Lifebelts on! Put your lifebelts on! Here! Put your lifebelts on!” he shouted. One of the poverty stricken people--we’ll call her Connie--tried to ask him for a larger size, but he shouted in her face: “PUT YOUR FUCKING LIFEBELT ON!”

Connie sighed and began cutting the lifebelt up into 12 individual lifebelts to try and keep her kids afloat.

At the end of the hallway, Tommy Ryan and his disciples were sprinting through the crowds of people, trying to keep up with the rats. “Lifebelts! Lifebelts! Get ‘em why they’re hot!” the minion shouted, thrusting a lifebelt into Tommy’s hands. Without slowing down or hesitating at all, Tommy flawlessly slipped the lifebelt over his head.

Fabrizio, who was right behind Tommy, was not so lucky.

“Ummmmm errrrhmm… a… lifebelt?” he asked the minion, wanting to match his leader.

“Sorry, mate, I guess I’m out!” The minion shrugged before pushing past him and picking up another stack of lifebelts to hand out. I guess Fabby didn’t need one anyway; Italians can float, right? Like a trooper, Fabby shrugged it off and followed Tommy into a crowd of people who were blocking the stairs.

There were literally hundreds of poor people shoved into this one stairwell, but that didn’t stop Team Leader Tommy from murring his way right through them all and getting up to the top of the stairs in an instant. This is why he was the team leader.

“Can y’all just fucking chill? It’s not time to go up to the boats yet!” one of the minions on the other side of the gate yelled down into the slums. “According to Mr. Andrews’ presentation, there aren’t enough lifeboats for everyone. And because y’all are poor, you have to wait for the rich bitches to do their thang and then maybe, _maybe,_ I’ll let you in. Maybe.”

Tommy was not having that. Nope. This night was going to be _his_ time to shine and that was starting now. He pushed past another group of people to get to the front of the gates, so that he could yell at the minion and let them know how wrong they are.

But before we get to that, let’s focus on the cute little Irish family that was waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs to be told what to do. The little Irish boy--we’ll call him Niall--looked up at his mother with a doe-like expression. “What ‘re we doing, mummy?”

“We’re just waiting, dear,” Mrs. Horan responded, calm as ever. “When they finish putting the rich bitches on the boats, they’ll be staring with us and we want to be all ready, don’t we?” she lied. She had overheard some rich bitches talking about Mr. Andrews’ presentation about life boats the other day and she _knew_ where she fell in society. They weren’t getting a boat. But ehhhhh, it was either die on the grandest ship in the world, or die on in the streets back in Ireland, so really it was a win win.

Either way, Niall’s sister--let’s call her Hermione--nodded while grinning up at Mrs. Horan.

Anyway, back up on the decks, the first batch of lifeboats was going out. Officer Murdoch was directing the pulley system minions on how to do their job. “Lower away! Left and right side together! Left side, right side, left side, right side, you’re both in perfect harmony and doing beautiful! Left, right, left, right, left, right! Yes! Just pretend it’s a game of desert dash! That’s it! Brilliant! Both sides together, STEADYYYY!” It was a bit more cheery than Mr. Murdoch was used to, but he just had his performance review and was told that he needed to be more encouraging.

So, like, he was trying.

The pulley system minions were trying desperately to time their A’s and B’s so they wouldn’t mess up the flow of things, but unfortunately the left side minion was a stupid bitch and didn’t have any sort of rhythm. Therefore, his side of the lifeboat started going too fast and all the rich bitches inside started panicking.

Fuck his performance review.

“Are you fucking joking?” Murdoch exclaimed. “You are all a bunch of fucking _idiots!_ I swear! Every single person that was hired by the White Star Line is a fucking _moron!_ Do I have to do everything _myself?_ GOD,” Murdoch exclaimed, taking my name in vain again, before pushing one of the minions out of the way and taking over for him. “Right side only! Right side only!” he directed, holding his side steady.

The right side minion, we’ll call him Right Hand Randy, nervously continued on.

Thankfully with the help of Murdoch, they were able to fix it and all was good with the world.

Meanwhile, over somewhere yonder, a minion shot off a firework! Cappy was instructed to send out a flare, but his erection blinded him when he got to the box of fireworks and remembered how much he loved the 4th of July, when Mr. Andrews would take him to the fairgrounds and they’d watch the fireworks go off together. So before he could get to the flare box, he was shoving fireworks into the minions’ hands and sending them on their way.

So that’s how we ended up with those.

So the firework minion shot off one into the sky and, this is really important to the story so pay attention, the ugliest child in all of my creation watched with fascination as the firework exploded over her head. Who cares that the ship is sinking, it’s a fucking firework!

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So I was still cuffed to the stupid pipe. And I was suspicious. My window was level with water now, and it wasn’t before. I started writing HELP on the window with my nose prints, but Lovejoy was being distracting.

He kept putting a bullet on the desk and watching it roll its way back to him. It was annoying. I get it, okay? It’s a poorly made desk.

Lovejoy grinned smugly at me and put the bullet back in his gun.

“You know, I do believe this ship may sink,” he said innocently. He stood up and came closer to me. “I’ve been asked to give you this small token of our appreciation.”

Oh my gah, a bonus?!

Then Lovejoy punched me in the stomach. That shit hurt.

“Compliments of Mr. Caledon Hockley, my bestie.”

As I crouched down and tried to focus on breathing through the pain, I saw Lovejoy take the key, swallow it, and leave the room.


	8. Part Eight

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So Mother and I were waiting our turn to get onto the lifeboats.

“Come on, sister, you heard the man, into the boat,” Molly said, taking the arm of a woman who I guess wasn’t good enough to be her daughter and leading her into a lifeboat.

Cal, who still isn’t being as sneaky as he thinks he’s being, butted his nose into the situation. “Any room for a gentleman, uh… gentlemen?”

“Only women at this time, sir.”

I watched a woman tearfully hug her boo. I remember back when I had a boo. I had two boos. And now I’m just an independent woman.

“Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?” Mother asked. “Perhaps the third-class passengers can just swim alongside us? I hope they’re not too crowded!” she laughed. Cal gave her a polite smile, but I wasn’t having any of these shenanigans. Time to drop some knowledge.

“Oh, Mother,” I began in my most condescending voice, “shut up!” I grabbed her. “Don’t you understand? The water is freezing and there aren’t enough boats. Not enough by half. I already did the sum in my head and it adds up. Half the people on this ship are going to die.”

“I feel your point, but, like… not the better half,” Cal said.

I had a fright when Molly seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Cal and I exchanged a worried glance, but it turned out Molly was just talking to Mother. “Come on, Ruth! Get in the boat! First-class seats are right up here.”

“You know,” Cal continued, raising one of his eyebrow wigs, “it’s a pity I didn’t keep that drawing. It’ll be worth a lot more by morning. By which I mean it’ll be considered a historical artifact now that we’re making history with this ship sinking. Do you have it on you? Do you want to run down to Suite 52/54/56 with me to go get it?”

All I could do was look at Cal and put 2 + 2 + 2 together. “You unimaginable bastard. You said Jack’s artwork wouldn’t amount to a thing!”

“Come on, Rose, darlin’, there’s plenty of room for you,” Molly said. “Come on, Rose. You’re next, darlin’!”

“Come into the boat, Rose,” Mother said.

“Come,” Cal said, holding out his hand. “I have a treat for you.”

I just looked at all of them. All of these rich bitches were going to live. But Jack was a third-class man and he didn’t stand a chance. I guess I should go save his life? I don’t think anyone else cares about him. But I have a seat in the lifeboat all cozy next to Molly’s bosom…

Ugg. Decisions.

“Rose!” Mother said shrilly. “Get into the boat!”

“GIVE ME A MINUTE. I’m making a decision.” I pulled out my iPod and put it on Shuffle. Avril would tell me what to do. Whatever song came on… whatever it said… that would be the one to decide my fate.

He was a boy  
She was a girl  
Can I make it any more obvious?  
He was a punk.  
She did ballet.  
What more can I say?  
He wanted her.  
She'd never tell.  
Secretly she wanted him as well.  
And all of her friends  
Stuck up their nose.  
And they had a problem with his baggy clothes.

He was a skater boy, she said, "See ya later, boy."  
He wasn't good enough for her.  
She had a pretty face but her head was up in space.  
She needed to come back down to earth. 

It was all making sense. Jack was my sk8er boi! Five years from now, I don’t want to sit at home feeding the baby all alone! I want to be with Jack, whether he’s a rich bitch or not. I do need to come back down to earth!

My decision made, I looked at my mother, who was now breathing into a paper bag.

“Rose?”

“Good-bye, Mother.”

I turned and ran.

“Rose!” she continued to shout. “Rose, come back here! Right now!”

“Where are you going?” Cal asked, grabbing my arm and forcing me to turn around. At least, that’s what I think he said. He has problems enunciating when he gets worked up. “Wh--what, to him? Wh--what, t-to be a whore to a gutter rat?”

I pulled out our scorebook and handed it to him, knowing I already had a win in the bag.

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!” Cal said. He made a mark in my column. “I think I’m gonna need some ice for that burn!”

“Good thing there are icebergs everywhere!”

He high-fived me and we had a good laugh over that.

“Oh, jokes,” I said when our laughter died down. “Well, I’d better go.” I turned around and began to scurry away.

“No!” Cal said, grabbing onto me. “No! I won’t let you go! If I get in one more burn, our scores will be tied and I can rest easy. Just let me think of something. Um… your mother’s so fat…”

I waited politely, but he didn’t say anything else. But when I tried to leave, he kept his grip on my arms. “I said no!” he shouted. “I’ll come up with something! You--you’re so whorish that… uh…”

I didn’t have time for this shit. Using the skills Jack had taught me, I hocked a loogie and spat it in Cal’s face. Then I ran off into the night.

“ROSE!” I heard Mother still shouting. “PLEASE STOP!”

“And lower away!”

“ROSE!!!!!! NO, WAIT!!!!!!!! ROSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, she’s gone. Oh well. I tried.”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Okay, going by the water level in the window, I’m now underwater somehow. This ain’t good at all. Where’s my fucking boss? I have to be working overtime by now.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?” I shouted, banging my cuffs against the pipe. “HELLO, HELP ME! CAN ANYBODY HELP ME?”

***~*~*~*~*~*Water’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I can hear you, Jack! Don’t worry, buddy! I’m coming!

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Mr. Andrews!” I shouted, running through the ship’s corridors. I didn’t stop to ask anyone where he could be or anything. That would waste too much time. I figured it would be best to just run around blindly and hope I’d bump into him eventually.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Mr. Andrews, meanwhile, was being a boss and solving thirty problems at once.

“Steward! Check the starboard corridor!”

“Yes, Mr. Andrews,” the minion obliged.

Then he came face to face with a rich bitch pouring herself a glass of sherry. “Madam, please, put on a lifebelt and get to the boat deck immediately.” Then he carried on in his journey of badassery.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told a man examining a rash on his arm. “Just a touch of hydrocortisone cream applied twice daily should do it. Here you are.” After Mr. Andrews handed the cream to the man, he bumped into a minion who I don’t have to give a name to because Mr. Andrews first-names her. Thanks for making my life a little easier, buddy.

“Lucy, for God’s sake, put on your lifebelt; set a good example.” As he said this, he tenderly patted her on the cheek in a fatherly way. That Cappy was a lucky man.

“Yes, sir,” Lucy said.

“Anyone in here?” Mr. Andrews said, opening the next door, even though he already knew there was someone in there. But it was best to keep up appearances and pretend he didn’t know everything.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

After running for about half an hour or so, I finally ran into him. “Mr. Andrews? Mr. Andrews! Thank God, finally! Where would the master at arms take someone under arrest?”

“What?” Mr. Andrews said. “Have I taught you nothing? Did you not read my sandwich board? You have to get to a boat right away!”

“NO!” I murr’d. “I’m doing this with or without your help, sir. But without will take longer. A lot longer. I cannot stress enough how bad I am at this.”

Mr. Andrews sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But I’m going to spin you around while I do it to help you hone your navigational skills. Now, take the elevator to the very bottom and go to the left, down the crewmans’ passage. Then go right, and left again at the stairs. You’ll come to a long corridor, where a troll will ask you to answer his riddles three. Then--”

“Alright.” I held up my hand. “I’m gonna be real with you for a sec and tell you that I stopped listening about halfway through that. But you know what, I’m good. I’ll figure it out. I got the gist. Thanks a million!” I started running down the hall again.

“At least let me write it down for you!” Mr. Andrews pleaded.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I’ve got most of it. Thanks again!”

I think I heard him sigh.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

I stared out the window, sighing loudly when I saw Nemo swim past. I hugged the pole, breathing loudly and wishing I had one of those paper bags to breathe into. Seriously, I’ve worked myself into a fit. I rested thine forehead against the pole, damming my life and everything in it.

If I had never courted this rich bitch, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

“This could be bad,” I muttered to nobody but myself.

“It could be worse!” yelled the water, as it slowly started sneaking in underneath the door.

My eyes widened with fear. “OH SHIT. SHIT. OH SHIT. FUCK. OH DAMN. NO NO NO. STRANGER DANGER!!!” I yelled, frantically trying to break the pole I was attached to away from the wall. Back in that nickelodeon that I had watched that one time, they were talking about how in times of stress, adrenaline can allow mothers to lift _cars_ off their crushed babies.

Well, _I was stressed._ Somehow I was both the mother and the child in this situation, considering I was trapped but needed my mother-like adrenaline. But either way, I quickly scaled the _wall_ and wrapped my arms around the top portion of the pole. Then, using my calcium deprived bones, I began pushing away from the wall with my foot. All the while exclaiming, “Shit! Shit! Oh, shit! Shit! Oh, shit, shit!”

I really had a filthy mouth sometimes.

(And by filthy, I mean I cussed like a sailor. Although my mouth was quite filthy as well, considering I didn’t own a toothbrush.)

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~***

I was running towards the elevators, per Mr. Andrews’ instructions, and was carelessly bashing into people to get them out of my way. Everything was fine though, because as I bashed into them I was mumbling, “Excuse me! Hello, excuse me! Get out of my fucking way you twat! Excuse me! Don’t mind me! You’re doing a great job! Pardon!”

I rounded the corner, much like Jack and I had done earlier when running from Lovejoy, and overheard the tail end of a conversation.

“The lifts are _closed! As in, I’m not moving this lift anywhere!_ You can just drag your rich bitch self back to the stairs and walk up them like us minions do every day!” Geez, minions were really feeling their oats lately. Don’t they know their roles in life?

In fine cunty form, I decided _fuck it_ and moved to push past the minion, but he was stronger than I had anticipated and he stopped me. He stopped me due to his arm casually leaned against the other side of the lift. I could have, say, ducked under it or tickled his side a little until he dropped his arm, but I didn’t think to do that. I was panicking, okay?

“I’m sorry, miss, but the lifts are _closed!”_ he said rudely, in my face.

I glared at him, then glared at the empty lift, and then asked myself: WWMD?

So, like a true murr, I grabbed the minion by his ugly coat with both hands and pushed him into the belly of the lift. He was shocked and appalled, assuming that because I was a woman I wouldn’t fight back, but clearly he didn’t realize how much of a cunt I could be. So, just to further my point, I cuntily said, “I’m _through_ being nice, god dammit! Now take me down!”

The minion, shocked that a woman could cuss, quickly fabbed to me and stumbled to hit the button. “E Deck!” I shouted, watching as his chubby fingers fumbled and hit D deck instead. “Are you fucking joking me?” I asked, back handing him. “I said E deck! E! E AS IN ERECTION. NOT D AS IN DICK. YOU DICK.”

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, back in the belly, Jack was frantically trying to squeeze his wrists through the handcuffs to escape. He thought it would be easy, considering up until the last few days he hadn’t had a decent meal in years, therefore making his wrists thinner than usual, but he quickly realized it wasn’t working.

He should have gone easy on those dinner mints.

“Come on! Come on!” he yelled at his wrists. “Just get skinnier!” He tried to suck in his wrists, but then realized that wasn’t possible. “ARRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK EVERYTHING!” he yelled. “AND ESPECIALLY FUCK YOU!” he exclaimed, glaring at his fat wrists.

We’ll get back to this.

Back in the elevator, Rose was going over in her head Mr. Andrews’ directions, what she could remember of it at least. Because seriously, he had been spinning her and giving her the most long winded set of directions she had ever heard. But she knew that if all else fails, she could always run through every hallway calling out Jack’s name. That would most likely work.

When they finally arrived at E deck, after having to stop at D deck due to the minion’s fuck up, suddenly all this water started rushing in! It was almost as if the ship was sinking or something! The minion, ehhhh I guess we should name him at this point… let’s call him Frightened Francis… shrieked loudly when his shoes got wet and jumped up onto the lone chair.

“These were brand new!” he continued shrieking. “I just bought these! Oh my god! They’re dry clean only! Now there is salty ocean water all over them! Oh my god, this is the worst day of my life! I’m going back up!” he exclaimed, jumping off the chair he had been standing on and lunging towards the...thing.

“No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no!” Rose shouted, grabbing Frightened Francis’ arm and pulling him back aggressively. He stumbled backwards into the chair, his new shoes now completely soaked in water, but Rose didn’t care. She had directions to follow.

“You cunt!” FF yelled at her. “I just told you these shoes were new!” he continued screaming at her, as she tried to figure out how the doors worked. The minions always did this part for her, so she was kind of confused. She stood back, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the contraption, silently doing the sum in her head. Ah, that’s right, you just slide them.

So then she stepped out of the elevator and looked around.

“Ohhhh noooooo, come back…” FF said halfheartedly. The bitch deserved to die in his mind. “Oh well! I’m going back up! Sorry about your luck, bro!” He shrugged, effortlessly sliding the doors closed and standing on the chair until all the water had drained out.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

I watched as the elevator left and wondered for a second if I had made a mistake. I was in the belly of the beast now and the would have to take the stairs from now on. My thighs hurt just thinking about. I sighed. Had I made the wrong choice? Why was I such an indecisive bitch nowadays?

Well, there’s no going back now.

I began walking, not really knowing where I was going, but stopped when I saw “Crew Only” above one of the hallways. Is that what Mr. Andrews had meant by crewmans’ passage? Considering how many details he had given me, he was a bit vague about this. And also, why was the sign so tiny? If this hallway was only intended for crew, and they didn’t want any of the passengers stumbling down this hallway, shouldn’t they have at least made the sign RED?

So that it stood out?

I would have to discuss this with Mr. Andrews later.

**~*~*~*~*Mr. Andrews POV~*~*~*~**

I finished drawing the map, by hand, on a page from my notebook. “So you’re here, okay?” I said, sliding up close to the rich bitch I was helping. “I’ve notated that by this big red circle and the ‘You Are Here’, yeah?” She nodded. “So you want to go down this hallway here,” I said, marking the path with my red pen. “And then turn left here, then right here, then two more lefts and there you have it! You’ll find the closest ladies’ room!”

“Thank you!” the rich bitch said, taking the map from me and scurrying off in the direction I had showed her. Man, I was helpful.

Suddenly, I twitched violently.

Was somebody questioning my authority?

If this was about those Crew Only signs, I was going to have to kill a bitch.

In my original drawings, they were huge and red and required a facial recognition scan to get past them. But it was thought, _by some,_ that it was a little too extreme. So I was forced to downgrade the sign into a simple “Crew Only” white sign with black lettering.

WHEN WILL PEOPLE STOP QUESTIONING ME? 

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

The water was now up to my knees.

I was reminded of simpler times, back when I fell through the ice on Lake Wissota. Now, much like then, it felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all over. Well, from the knees down. I was not into this. I had to do something.

So I did what any sane person would do. I hooked my ankle around the closest desk and dragged it over before heaving myself up onto it.

Ha.

I’ve won the game.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

This was _horseshit._

I could be on a nice _dry_ lifeboat right now, but instead I was waist-deep in water, moving dresser drawers and chairs and other random debris out of my way as I navigated down a hallway that I wasn’t even sure was the right one. I was about to give up and turn back, when I suddenly spotted the troll up ahead. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, his spiky green hair standing up to perfection and a shit-eating grin on on his face.

Thank gah.

“HELLO, FELLOW TRAVELER! DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?” the troll eagerly asked, rubbing his grimy little palms together. His erection for riddles was seriously questionable.

“Alright,” I sighed, pushing one last dollhouse out of my way before stopping in front of him. “Hit me with your best shot.” Suddenly the lights went down and a spotlight came on, the hall lighting up in different shades of greens and reds and blues as if we were on some sort of twisted game show. Clapping and shouting could be heard in the background as if we had a live audience; I’m not sure where it was coming from, but I was almost impressed by this troll’s setup.

The cheesy game show music that had also been playing finally died down and the lone spotlight lay only on the troll. “Alright, Rose, are you ready for your first riddle?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“What can you catch… but not throw?”

I huffed. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? I thought this was supposed to be a challenge!”

The troll frowned. “I’m not trying to kill anybody here, Rose, I’m just trying to have fun! Now answer the question!”

I rolled my eyes again. _“A cold.”_

“VERY GOOD!” the troll exclaimed, the colorful lights lighting back up and the audience loop kicking back in. “I thought I was being tricky, but clearly I was not! You may now pass!” the troll exclaimed, jumping down from his post and gesturing for me to walk past.

“Oh, that’s it? Well. Alright, then. Have a good night!” I yelled, running past the troll’s post and continuing on my journey. I got to the end of the hall and had to go either left or right. I tried to remember what Mr. Andrews had told me, but quickly realized that was pointless because I hadn’t been listening in the first place. He’s lucky I remembered the bit about the troll.

“JACK?!” I called out, going back to my plan B. As in my second plan, not the emergency birth control pill. I waited for his response, knowing that my voice traveled well, but was only met with silence and the faint sound of game show music. I sighed and decided to go left. I had no reasoning behind this, I just wanted to go to left.

Suddenly the lights began to flicker and I started to panic. Was it another troll? Or was there a demon coming? I had been watching a lot Supernatural lately, so I assumed it had to be the second option. I cursed myself for not bringing salt with me. “JACK!” I screamed again, desperately hoping he’d hear me.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

Did someone just call my name?

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

“JACK!!!! HELLO, JACK!!!! JACK ARE YOU THERE?”

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

My ears perked up again, while I was still straddling this pole. I could have sworn I heard someone calling the name Jack! I sighed quietly, resting thine cheek against the pole again. Maybe if they had been more specific I could yell something back at them, but if they’re looking for a different Jack, I don’t want to make a fool of myself.

You know what happens when you assume.

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Why the fuck wasn’t Jack answering me?

I was able to smell his musk for the past few minutes, so I knew I was close, but he wasn’t answering me! I cleared my throat before screaming louder, and more specific.

“JACK DAWSON? JACK DAWSON WHO IS POOR AND WORKED IN OLD PERRIE AT ONE POINT? JACK WHO HAD HIS PENIS IN MY, ROSE DEWITT BUKATER’S, VAGINA NOT TOO LONG AGO? JACK! JACK DAWSON!”

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

My eyes lit up. They were yelling for me!

“ROSE?!?!?!” I exclaimed.

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Did someone just call my name?

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

“ROSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Perhaps they’re looking for a different Rose…

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

I groaned loudly. “ROSE DEWITT BUKATER!!!! THIS IS JACK SPEAKING!!!!! I AM ANSWERING YOUR PREVIOUS PAGE!!!!!!”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I stopped searching, my eyes widening a bit. “JACK DAWSON?!”

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

THANK GAH. FINALLY.

“YES! ROSE! ROSE I’M IN HERE!” I yelled, really selling it by bashing my handcuffs against the pipe. Maybe if she couldn’t understand my voice, she could use the banging as some sort of sonar and track my scent to this room. “ROSE!!!!’

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

“JACK!”

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

“ROSE!!!!”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

“JACK!”

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

“ROSE!!!!”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Finally deciding it was him, I began making my way towards his smell.

**~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

“ROSE, WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU COMING OR NOT? WHERE ARE YOU? ROSE!!!!!”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I huffed. Was this bitch actually getting sassy with me? “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I groaned. “Jack!” I added. Finally I found the right door and opened it, then we both gasmed when we saw each other.

“ROSE!!!!”

“JACK!!!!!”

“ROSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“JACKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“ROOOOSSSSEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I had won the game.

“JACK!” I shouted once more for good measure. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You’re my sk8er boi!”

“That guy... Lovejoy? I think his name’s Lovejoy, but I could be wrong. But he put it in my pocket!”

“I know! I know, I know, I know!” I said, forcing his head onto my neck. “And I don’t care. I’m with you whether you want to steal or not. But also… srsly? You’re not sure who Lovejoy is? Haven’t you had a whole history with him? Didn’t he take you down here and chase us through the ship and give you ciggies on the night we met, which was also the night you met him? And you’re acting like you don’t know him at all? Why?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ve heard some people call him Spicey and idk what he wants to be called. I’m just trying to show respect. But listen, Rose, you’re going to have to find a spare key, ite? Look in that cabinet right there. It’s a little silver one, Rose.”

I waded over to the cabinet and thrust it open. I read that blind people “see” by feeling with their hands, so just to be on the safe side, I touched every single key in the cabinet, just in case any felt silvery.

They did not.

“These are all brass ones!” I shouted. Because it’s not like he’s two feet away from me or anything.

“Check right here, Rose,” Jack said, kicking at a desk.

I opened the desk drawer, but I thought the best way to truly get a feel for its contents would be to just pull out the whole drawer and lift up my thigh so the drawer could rest on my thigh. Then, balancing on my one leg, I frantically rifled through the drawer.

“Oops,” I said when my other leg fell down. “I’ll just lift it up again.” I lifted the leg up against the drawer again and continued to rummage my hands all around and inside the drawer, all the while wobbling around on my one leg.

“Rose.”

Can’t he see I’m working? I turned around to look at him.

“How did you find out I didn’t do it?” he asked.

“I did the sum in my head, and I just realized I already knew. By which I mean I _always_ knew you didn’t do it because _you told me._ But then I listened to Sk8er Boi and decided it didn’t matter that you didn’t want to steal for me because I still want you anyway.”

I smiled at him, and Jack smiled back, and we stood there smiling at each other. I thought maybe the moment called for a kiss, so I started to put the drawer down.

“Bitch! Keep looking!” he shouted, thrusting his cuffed hands back at the drawer.

Oh, right.

That.

I sighed and picked up the drawer again. I was starting to regret this whole _trying to save his life_ thing.

So after looking in the drawer, I looked around the room in a panic. But there wasn’t time to put on my beautiful _I’m panicking_ face. “No key! There’s no key!”

“Alright, Rose, listen.”

I looked up at him, listening. I knew he was talking to me because he was using my name.

“You’re gonna have to go find some help,” he said.

“You sure? Because I’m really bad at this. It took me forever to find you.”

“It’ll be alright.”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” I said, “let’s have a last kiss. This is definitely going to be the last time I see you. Sorry in advance for leaving you to die in this room, but just know that I tried, alright?” I waded across the room to get to Jack. “I’ll be right back! Or not.”

We kissed, and then I waded out of the room.

“I’ll just wait here!”

I popped my head back into the room and laughed. “Ha! _You._ Yeah, you’re probably going to die before I get back. Sorry again. Anyway, bye.”

So I waded through the corridor, looking for any signs of life. The water was up to my waist and I was not having it. I came to a corner and hesitated, uncertain of which corridor to go down. I was also uncertain as to which corridor I’d just come from. Um. They looked identical. Then my eyes settled on the stairs to D Deck.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh there’s probably help up here!” I said to myself, and hoisted myself onto the stairs. Ugg, stairs. How do poor people do it?

“Hello, is there anyone here?” I shouted when I reached D Deck. “Hellooooo? Yoohoo? Is there anybody down here?” I continued my pattern of running through the corridors and paying no attention to where I was going or where I’d just come from. It would all work out. “We need help! HELLOOOOOOOO!”

I sighed and started running back in the same direction (idk. Maybe. All the corridors look the same). “Dammit! Why didn’t I drop breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel?”

Oh gah. I’d reached another corner again. Which one do I go down? Which one had I just come from? WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY BREADCRUMBS?

“Eenie… meenie… miney… mo. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eenie, meenie, miney… mo,” I said, picking one. Then I ran down it at full speed. “Can anybody hear me? Please, HELLOOOOOOOO! HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

I turned around and saw a poor man running through the halls. “Oh, thank God! You’ll do! Wait, please, I need your help!” I put my hands on his arms.

“Stranger danger!” he shouted, removing my hands from his body. “Swiper, no swiping!”

“There’s a man back here and he needs--wait!”

He just kept running. “Stranger danger!” he shouted over his shoulder.

I sighed and turned back around, but I didn’t bother to move forward. I figured I’d just lay down to die. “HELLOOOOOOOOOOO?” I shouted into the abyss.

Then the lights started flickering. Those goddamn demons! I leaned against the wall, hoping the demons would pass me by.

Then the lights came back on. Oh, ite.

“Hello?” I tried again. “Demons?”

And who should come running up to me but BILL NYE THE FUCKING SCIENCE GUY. He was carrying lifebelts and some test tubes.

“Oh, miss, you shouldn’t be here now! I’m filming an episode on the water cycle--”

“Wait, please!” I said, rudely talking over one of the greatest scientists on television. “I need your help.”

He grabbed my arm and started leading me down the corridor. “This way, quickly. See, water can take many forms. It can be a solid, like the iceberg. It can be a liquid, like this water on the floor. Or it can be a gas, like the vapor in this test tube.”

“There is a man down here and he is trapped--”

“Now, when the vapor turns back into a liquid, we call it _condensation--”_

“Please!”

“Now, there’s no need to panic, the liquid can turn back into a vapor. That’s called _evaporation._ So if we--”

“I’m not panicking! You’re going the wrong way! But I don’t know for sure. Do you have a map?”

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. What makes the vapor return to earth as water?”

“Let go of me!” I shouted. “I don’t have time for science! LISTEN!” And then I punched him.

Bill Nye leaned back against the wall. He touched his now-bleeding nose and examined the blood, while I leaned against another wall, all out of breath from the punch.

“To hell with you!” Bill Nye said, running off with his lifebelts and test tubes.

I sighed and closed my eyes, ready to give up. Then I heard a pattering of footsteps. I opened my eyes and saw a camera crew running down the corridor.

“Did you see where Bill Nye went?”

I pointed them in the right direction (I hope) and sighed dramatically some more. But then I saw it.

_An axe._

I used the hose thing next to it to break the glass the axe was encased in. Then, axe in hand, I ran maniacally down the corridor.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I was halfway through my first favorite Wiggles eppy (the one in which Anthony forgets how to Wiggle. It’s dramatic, but it’s also got some great funny moments, and it was the first episode to teach me what it really means to be a Wiggle), but I kept hearing all this noise. Finally, I had to get out of bed, put aside my goldfish crackers, and see what the commotion was all about.

I looked over the bridge (or something). Water was pouring all over the… front part of the ship. Which is called… the bow! I grinned. I’d be sure to tell Mr. A later. He’d be so proud of me.

Then I heard a loud noise, and I looked up. Fireworks! I get to stay up past my bedtime, watch my favorite Wiggles eppies, and now there are fireworks? What a great day!

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So I finally, _finally_ found the right staircase. It was, frankly, embarrassing how long it took me to find it. But whatev, Jack wasn’t here to judge. And if he’s dead, he’s dead. I’m trying.

But the corridor below the staircase was almost completely flooded. Oh gah… Was he _really_ worth it? Maybe I could go catch the tail end of Bill Nye’s episode…

I sighed. No. This is not what Av would do.

Balancing the axe in a rail type deal, which isn’t dangerous at all, I took off my beautiful pink coat. Then I took the axe from its totally safe position and thrust myself into the water, which was now at my bosom.

“Oh!” I gasped. It was like a thousand knives hitting me all over. But you know what, Jack, I can still breathe and think about something other than the pain, so SUCK IT. I _knew_ you were exaggerating.

By grabbing onto the pipes ahead for leverage, I was able to hoist myself along through the corridor. And then it was as easy as following the smell.

“Jack!” I shouted, wandering into the right room on the first try. Because, again, the smell.

“Rose!”

He was alive after all!

I held up the axe. “Will this work?”

“Um… I’m not gonna lie to you; that’s really not what I had in mind when I asked you to get help. But… I guess we’ll find out. Come on.” He spread his cuffed wrists as far as he could. Then I lifted the axe, ready to hack away.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! That’s terrible form! Try a couple practice swings over there.”

Shivering, I trudged over to a cabinet and took a swing at it with the axe.

“Good! Now try to hit the _same mark again,_ Rose. You can do it!”

I concentrated on the mark, calculated calculations, and took another swing.

I did not hit the same mark again.

“Wyell… I spose that’s enough practice. Come on, Rose,” he said, spreading his wrists apart again. “You can do it… I guess… Listen… just hit it really hard, and really fast. Don’t try gently tapping it over and over again or anything. I want all or nothing.”

“Ite!” I held up the axe.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Open your hands up a little more.”

I wasn’t really sure what he meant by that, so I kind of moved them around and hoped my hands looked like they were in a different position. “Like that?”

“Sure… I guess. Listen, Rose… I trust you.”

“Srsly? I don’t trust me. But whatev.” I held up the axe, and Jack got into position.

“Go!”

Before I swung the axe, I thought it would be best to close my eyes. I mean, blood is probably going to gush everywhere, and I’d really rather not get it into my eyes. I don’t know what other kinds of diseases Jack has, but I feel like getting his blood directly into my bloodstream would be a sure way to catch ‘em all, like Pokemon.

Eyes closed, I brought down the axe as hard as I could.

I didn’t hear him cry out in pain, so I peeked my eyes open. And oh my gah! I did it! I broke apart the cuffs! Jack and I gasmed for a minute or two, both of us sounding like squawking birds.

“You did it!” he shouted, hugging me. “Come on! Let’s go!”

 

I turned around and began leading him out of the room.

“Oh, _shit,_ this is cold!” he yelled. “Shit! Shit! Horseshit! Bullshit! Dog shit!”

“Bitch,” I said, stopping suddenly and turning around to face him, “I have literally been walking all over this goddamn ship, _in this water,_ to find your sorry ass! _Trust me,_ I know it’s cold! So can you stop bitching? Please?”

“Oh,” Jack said. “I mean, iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite…”

“Thank you,” I said, rolling my eyes and then continuing out into the hallway. We stopped once again though when we saw all the water rolling in from up above. The hallway _was not_ blocked, but… it was a bit deeper than it had been before. Totally still passable, and much quicker, but. “This is the way out!!! … I think, maybe, I might be turned around,” I said, trying to see if things looked familiar.

“You _think?”_

“Bitch,” I said, turning to face him once again, “didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Which time?” Jack asked.

“I SAID I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN WALKING ALL OVER THIS GODDAMN SHIP--”

“Oh, I thought that was just about the cold. Okay, yeah, I get it. My b. Anyway, we really should get a move on it. Let’s go this way, okay?”

“Alright.” I nodded as we began walking the other way. “But you can definitely take the lead. My sense of direction is worse than I thought it would be. You’re poor, you know how to navigate, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what me being poor has to do with it, but yes. I can navigate.”

“K, cool.”

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Back up top, a few of the lifeboats (that weren’t completely full, mind you) were slowly rowing away from the boat. “Pull! Pull! Pull!” the officer and captain of Lifeboat C was hollering at his minions. Unfortunately there weren’t enough minions to go around for each lifeboat, so some of the rich bitches had oars thrusted upon them. They weren’t doing anything with them though.

Two of these rich bitches were Molly Brown and Ruth DeWitt Bukater.

“Well, that’s not something you see every day!” Molly cackled, turning to look at her gal pal Ruth. “I wish I had my iPhone with me so I could snapchat this!”

Ruth internally killed bitches. _New money._

Just then, another firework was shot off into the sky. Molly cackled again, she loved everything about life! She handed her section of the oar over to Ruth, because that was possible, and then she rummaged around in the bottom of her suitcase for her travel grill.

“What… what are you doing?” Ruth gasped.

“I’m gonna cook us some burgers!” Molly exclaimed. “Nothing goes better with fireworks than a cookout! Amiright? WHO AM I KIDDING, OF COURSE I’M RIGHT! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Molly cackled, squirting lighter fluid all over her charcoals before lighting the travel grill. “How do you like yours cooked?”

Meanwhile, back on the decks, Officer Lightoller was ripping old ladies apart from their husbands and forcing them into the lifeboat. He realized that they were almost done saying goodbye, and they were just going in for one last kiss, but he couldn’t be bothered to wait. They had their whole lives together; now wasn’t the time to get sappy about it! “Piss off, wouldja?!” Lightoller said, pushing the old man away from his wife before shoving her into the lifeboat.

Behind her, some 18 year old newlyweds were being split up by another officer.

Lightoller waited patiently for them to finish before gently urging the vagina into the lifeboat.

What a cute couple.

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~**

I was, once again, searching for Rose. Idk why I kept going back to this bitch. Yeah, we had our fun moments, but she was srsly becoming a _huge_ pain in my ass. I was surrounded by hundreds of people trying to get on the lifeboat. Seriously, there wasn’t any room to walk, but somehow I was able to find Spicey in the midst of all this tomfoolery!

Thank gah!

“SPICEY! SPICE, MY BOY! OVER HERE! HEY! HEY BUDDY! BUDDY! SPORT!”

Spicer finally looked over and then slowly made his way towards me. “Idk what to tell you, man. It was hard enough trying to find her when everything was business as usual on this ship, but gah. I searched everywhere! She’s not even on the starboard side!”

“Dammit, Lovejoy!” I exclaimed. “You’re the most worthless valet ever!”

Spicey frowned.

“Oh, cheer up, lad.” I smiled, patting his shoulder four times. “You’re still a good bestie. But, for real, as a valet you’re absolute trash. We’re going to have to really reconsider your position once we get to New York.”

“Speaking of, how’re we getting on a boat?” Spicer asked.

“Yeah… idk… we’re running out of time and this strutting martinet isn’t letting men on _at’tall._ Who knew everyone was such feminists nowadays, aye?” I chuckled. It was so funny that women were being put ahead of men. Clearly we were the better race.

“There’s one on the other side letting men on.” Lovejoy shrugged.

“Forreal?”

“Word.” He nodded.

“Well then, that’s our play. We’ll need some insurance first, though. Come on!” I said, linking arms with him as we began heading back towards 52/54/56. “How knowledgeable are you when it comes to insurance plans?” I asked, allowing Spicey to open the door for me. “I’ve never quite understood deductibles, if we’re being honest.”

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~***

Meanwhile, I had been following Jack around the ship like a good little sheep and he kept muttering things under his breath about directions, but I’m not sure we were going the right way. Not that I was anyone to judge, because we’ve seen how long it takes me to find things, but at least I had proper _schooling._ Jack did not.

Anyway, that’s how we found ourselves at this locked door.

“You don’t even know what’s on the other side,” I said, making a valid point in my mind.

“The way out. That’s what’s on the other side,” Jack said, attempting to kick down the door. “I’ve seen Molly do this a thousand times, I don’t understand!” he groaned, frustrated when the door wasn’t breaking.

“Well… we could always just, you know… say it… and she could come and knock it down for us?”

Jack nodded, but sighed. He ran his hands through his even greasier than usual hair. “But do we really want to deal with the backlash of that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me. I’d have to make sure he got those waxed later, they’re looking a bit bushley.

“Yeah, idk.”

“One more time, then,” he said, shaking out his arms before running at the door full speed, screaming at the top of his lungs. And what do you know, he broke the door down! We both came tumbling through the door, tripping over each other and pieces of door all at once. On the other side of the door, a very angry minion began yelling at us.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT? I COULD HAVE FUCKING UNLOCKED THAT FOR YOU, YOU HOOLIGANS! YOU’LL HAVE TO PAY FOR THAT! THAT’S WHITE STAR LINE PROPERTY!”

Then, in a moment of grace, we both turned and yelled at the exact same time: “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Ha.

We showed him.

He shut up. He also began to cry. Whatev, whatev.


	9. Part Nine

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, back at the lifeboat situation, a rich bitch tapped Lightoller on the shoulder before she began speaking. “Hey there, would you mind holding the boat a sec? See, I forgot my charger in my room and I’d really hate to replace it, so if I could just like run down and grab it real quick? I’ll be back in a jiff, promise.”

Lightoller was done with everybody’s shit.

“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he exclaimed, picking the rich bitch up and swinging her over into the lifeboat. Huh. Who knew he was that strong? He and Murdoch had been going to the gym every other night together and it was clearly paying off. “I’m just trying to save everybody’s _lives_ here! JUST SIT DOWN.”

“Oh--um, okay.” She nodded, sitting down in the lifeboat and huffing to herself. Now her phone was gonna die.

“She’s the last,” Lightoller groaned to one of his minions.

**~*~*~*~*Mr. Andrews’ POV~*~*~*~**

I was going to _slay_ a bitch.

“Mr. Lightoller! Mr. Lightoller!” I yelled, completely outraged by what I just witnessed. Lightoller would be lucky if he made it out alive from this interaction. “Why the _fuck_ are the boats being launched half full?” I asked.

He gave me a stupid look and then had the audacity to say, “Not now, Mr. Andrews.”

My eyes widened. “Don’t you know who I am? You don’t _‘not now’_ me! I’m… I’m me! I demand answers! Look at that boat over there,” I exclaimed, turning his stupid body around and pointing at one of the lifeboats. There were a few out in the water, so just to be sure we were looking at the same one I pulled out my pocket laser pointer and began lighting up the lifeboat in question with it’s beam. “There’s only twenty or so people in that boat!”

There were 24.

But I’ve been told, _by some,_ that my precise knowledge has been taken as egotistical. So I tried to keep certain details out. But trust me, I knew.

I turned Lightoller back around. “In a boat made for 65? And earlier, oh my fuck, I saw one boat with only twelve,” I said, waiting for him to realize the error in his ways. It was taking too long and I was getting pissed. “TWELVE. TWELVE PEOPLE, YOU DICK!”

“Well…” he started. “We um… we weren’t sure of the weight… Mr. Andrews… sir… your majesty…”

“WHAT?! RUBBISH!” I yelled. This was worse than I thought! “How dare you question the weight! I built every single one of these life boats with my big Irish hands! They were tested in Belfast with the weight of _70 men!_ And do you know who those 70 men were? THAT’S RIGHT. ME. I WAS ALL 70 MEN. I DID THIS BY CLONING MYSELF. BUT YOU DON’T KNOW A FUCKING THING ABOUT ANYTHING, DO YOU? YOU CERTAINLY DON’T KNOW ABOUT THE WEIGHT CAPACITY OF MY LIFEBOATS AND YOU SURE AS SHIT DON’T KNOW A DAMN THING ABOUT CLONING, SO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FILL THESE LIFEBOATS WITH PASSENGERS! DON’T MAKE ME GET THE _HOSE!!!!”_

Lightoller turned to look back at the boat I had been pointing at earlier, before looking back at me. Then, just for fun, he looked back at the boat one more time. “Fuck it, I’ll just do it myself!” I exclaimed, pushing Lightoller out of the way and began loading the passengers.

“This world would stop existing if it wasn’t for me,” I said, smiling politely at a rich bitch as I helped her into the lifeboat. “I cure cancer, I cure AIDS, I create time travel, I create power steering and four wheel drive, I raise a grown man into a ship captain, I made the mini fridge but ohhhhhhhhhhhhh don’t trust Mr. Andrews, no! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

“Sir I--I could do it,” Lightoller fumbled.

“No! I don’t want your help!” I replied angrily. There’s only so much one man can take, okay? “Go find something else to do! You are no longer in charge of boarding passengers!” Lightoller sighed before nodding and scurrying off.

I need a vacation.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Fabrizio, two ship minions, and several other third-class passengers leaned out of a door-type deal on the side of the ship. Which seems… dangerous.

“I can see the statue of liberty already!” Fabrizio shouted, peering out the door. “Very small, of course.”

“This is not an exit!” one of the minions shouted, closing the door. Who knows why they opened it, then.

Just a few feet away, everyone’s fearless leader, Tommy Ryan, was pressed up against the gate keeping back the third-class passengers. He was doing his best to reason with the minions.

“You can’t keep us locked in here like animals--the ship’s bloody sinking!” he shouted.

“Stand back!” the minion, who we shall call Andrew, said. “Straight forward, the women! Unlock the gates,” he told his co-minion, who doesn’t have a speaking role, so he doesn’t get a name. The nameless minion did as told, and as soon as the gates were opened, men and women alike burst through the opening. “Women only!” Andrew shouted. “No men!”

But the men kept scurrying forward, so the minions took things into their own hands. One of them used the butt of his axe to, I guess, axe-whip all the men through the gates. Andrew, meanwhile, held up the tiniest pistol I’ve ever seen. It might actually be a water gun. Let’s go with that.

“No men! Lock the gates!” Andrew yelled, holding up his water gun.

Once the gates were locked, the passengers again got pist.

“For god’s sake, man, there are women and children down here!” Tommy yelled. “Let us out so we can have a chance!”

Andrew just pointed his water pistol at Tommy.

“That’s it!” Tommy said, pointing at Andrew with his big Irish hands. “You’re on my list! I’m sending my disciples after you!” Then Tommy pushed through the crowd and ran down the stairs. “Jack!” he called out, seeing Jack and Rose at the bottom of the steps. Oh no. Would Jack try to take over as everyone’s leader? Tommy decided to act calm about the situation.

“Tommy!” Jack said. “Can we get out?”

So far, it seemed like Jack was looking to Tommy as his leader, so things seemed to be going well so far.

“It’s hopeless that way!” Tommy said.

“Well, whatever we do, we’ve gotta do it fast.”

“Is… is that an order?” Tommy asked.

Then Fabby burst onto the scene. “Jack!” he called.

“Fabrizio!” Jack pulled Fabby into a hug.

Tommy looked on, un-hugged. That’s fine, he thought. Tommy preferred to keep a distance with his disciples anyway. He wouldn’t want to go hugging them left and right as if they were all equals. He needed to keep some semblance of order.

“The boats are all gone!” Fabby told Jack.

Tommy smiled proudly. Under his leadership, Fabby had been speaking more English.

Although… I’m pretty sure they’re still loading the boats, so really Fabby is doing nothing but telling lies and causing a panic.

“This whole place is flooded; we’ve gotta get out of here,” Jack said.

Well, thought Tommy, that’s what he was going to say, but… alright, Jack could have that one. It’s not like Tommy was a dictator, after all. He was willing to delegate.

“There’s _niente_ this way. Spaghetti-O’s!” Fabby said.

Tommy sighed. He should have known that Fabby would be back to his old habits once Jack was around.

“Alright,” Jack said. “Let’s go this way, alright? Come on!”

Tommy had no choice but to run after Jack. Then, to maintain order, he announced loudly, “If that’s the direction Jack’s going, that’s good enough for me.”

***~*~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

My buddy Spicey and I made it to Suite 52/54/56, where I was going to town on the safe. I pulled the heart of the ocean out of its case and thrust it into my pocket.

“I make my own luck,” I told Spicey, putting stacks of cash into my pockets. “Remember, how I said at dinner the other night, how a real man makes his own luck?”

“So do I,” Spicey said, holding his jacket open to show a gun so shiny it almost blinded me.

Poor Spicey. All he has in this world is a gun. I need to give him a raise.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Tommy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So we were all running and following Jack (whatev). Then Jack stopped at another corridor. I took that chance to sprint ahead so that I was now in the lead. Ha! Fabby, I noticed, followed after me. What now, bitch?

“Come on!” I shouted to Jack.

Jack paused and looked down the hall. “No, come on, let’s go this way.”

Oh gah. My authority was being questioned left and right. But I buried it and followed after Jack.

On the way, we passed a middle-eastern family. The father was frantically flipping through a dictionary, looking for some translation for the “E DECK BERTHING: CABIN N 140-155” sign in front of them.

Now, had _I_ been the leader, I would have stopped to tell them what the sign said. And if they didn’t understand spoken English, I’d have at least _pointed_ them in the right direction, because _presumably_ they were looking for the exit. I would have given them a pamphlet on becoming my disciples, and I’d find a way to show them how if they followed me, I’d lead them to safety.

But Jack, he just ran right past them.

Well… that’s one way to do it, I guess. As we ran, I looked back over my shoulder at them. Sorry, guys. My big Irish hands are tied.

Jack led us up some stairs, where we found ourselves face to face with another gate, guarded by more minions.

“Just go back to the main stairwell and everything will be sorted out there,” the minion was saying. I hated him, even more than I hated Andrew. I decided this minion’s name was Chuck.

“It will all get sorted out back there!” Chuck continued. “Just go back to the main stairwell!”

“Open the gate,” Jack said.

“Go back down the main stairwell.”

“Open the gate _right now.”_

“Go back down the main stairwell like I told you!”

Jack sighed. “God damn it, son of a bitch!” he screamed, rattling the gates.

“Stop that!” Chuck shouted.

Jack fought back through the crowd. Then his eyes darted around frantically, looking for something. I’m still kind of pist that he’s trying to overshadow me, but it’s actually pretty fascinating to watch him work.

Jack’s eyes settled on a bench, and he ran to it and started trying to dislodge it from the floor. “Fabby, Tommy, give me a hand!”

I obeyed. This was some good shit.

“Move aside! Move aside!” Rose shouted, ordering around all the passengers near the gate. But they didn’t seem to understand the concept of moving. “Move aside, quickly, move aside! Move aside!”

When we’d gotten the bench off the floor and the coast was clear, we took position in front of the gate.

“Put that down!” Chuck shouted. “Put that down! Go back down to the main stairwell!”

“ONE!” Jack shouted. Oh, I guess he was doing the counting, too. Well, alright.

“TWO!”

One of the minions scurried away down the hall because he was fucking smart. But Chuck stayed behind, and I was glad. I was going to give him a treat.

“Stop that!” Chuck yelled.

“THREE!”

We all rammed the bench into the gate, each of us grunting “AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!” in our own manly way.

“AGAIN!” Jack shouted.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!” we all said again, thrusting the bench into the gate. This time the bench broke through the gate. But Jack didn’t move the bench out of the way so everyone could more easily escape. Nah, he just kind of left it there so we’d awkwardly have to step on top of it in order to get across.

But, again, Jack and I are different people.

“Let’s go!” Jack ordered.

Now, here’s another spot where Jack and I differ in leadership styles. See, if it were _me,_ I’d have run back to where we came and signalled to everyone stuck at _Andrew’s_ gate that we had created a way out. Then I’d maybe pass out some Tommy pamphlets for good measure. But… well, I guess Jack assumes they’ll figure it out. I hope they do.

Anyway, we all awkwardly jumped over the bench. Jack just went barrelling ahead, but I made sure Rose went before I did, because that’s the kind of thoughtful leader I am.

“Oh, where’s Rose?” Jack said when he got over the bench. “Hey, there you are! I forgot about you! Thanks, Tommy. Let’s go, Rose.” He grabbed her hand and they walked ahead.

Chuck was still there, bless him. “You can’t go up there!” he shouted. “You can’t go the--”

And I punched him right in the face with my big Irish hand. Oh, it was amazing. When I print out a new batch of Tommy pamphlets, this punch is going to go right on the cover.

***~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Meanwhile, up above, all hell was breaking loose!

Which was a big issue for me, considering I was the who created hell in the first place.

But anyway, Officer Lightoller was doing his best to manage the lifeboat situation and only let women and children aboard, but all the men were NOT having this! Also, it seems that some of the filthy poverty people had snuck past all the boarders and were now trying to get onto the boats as well.

This would just not do.

The rich bitches had to be saved first!

“Keep order here! Keep order here!” Lightoller yelled, pushing back some of the filth and then wiping the grease off on his coat. Now he would have to burn this coat, shit. “Back! Back, back, back, back, back, back!” he ordered the filth. Suddenly, one of the poverty people decided to make a run for it and ran at top speed towards the boat! But they bashed into rich bitch Karen and she almost fell overboard! Oh no! The drama!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” Karen screamed.

Thankfully, Karen was a spry little bitch and she was able to grab onto the side of the lifeboat! _FREEDOM!!!!!_ she thought. _I got to butt in line!_ She was just about to haul herself over the side and into the lifeboat, because she was strong as fuck and had killer upper body strength, but someone from the deck below decided to “HELP” by trying to pull her back.

“What the fuck? NO!” Karen screamed, kicking at the person that was pulling her back. “I got this! I’m fine! I’m strong as fuck!” she continued screaming, attempting to pull herself back up and over the side. But the person below--we’ll call him Life-Ruiner Lenny--continued to pull her onto the deck! “No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Stop it! Stranger danger! Swiper no swiping! FUCK OFF, MAN!” But, alas, LRL pulled her in.

“You’re a dick,” she said, slapping him before scurrying off.

Meanwhile, one of the minions on that lifeboat decided he needed to do a little bit of _crowd control._ So he picked up this piece of, what looks like, a picket fence… and he proceeded to poke someone gently in the belly with it. “We’re full,” he said with a shrug, poking them again. “Stop pushing, k?”

“K,” the people on deck responded, defeated.

Lightoller though, he wasn’t going to be so polite about this! So he whipped out his pistol and started waving it around dramatically in the air. “I HAVE A GUN. DO YOU SEE MY GUN?!” he yelled. “IT IS LOADED WITH BULLETS, I PROMISE YOU. IT IS COCKED AND READY TO GO. I COULD SHOOT YOU.” He pointed it at one of the filths. “AND I COULD SHOOT YOU,” he said, pointing it at another one. “AND YOU, AND YOU, AND YOU, AND--no, not you, you’re cute, BUT YOU!!!! YOU I COULD SHOOT!!! WITH MY TOTALLY LOADED GUN!!!!!!”

Meanwhile, the adorable little lad on the lifeboat continued to gently poke people with his picket fence piece.

“GETTTTTT BACKKKKKK I SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!” Lightoller screamed, on a power trip. “OR I’LL SHOOT YOU ALL LIKE **_DOGS!”_**

Officer Lowe frowned. “ _Bro._ That’s… that’s not cool.”

Lightoller then pointed his pistol at Lowe. “I COULD SHOOT YOU, TOO!”

Lowe held his hands up. “Iight, iight, boss. You do your thing. I’ll just wait for you to finish.”

Lightoller then went back to screaming at the passengers, who were now standing back from him with their hands up. “THAT’S RIGHT, BITCHES. YOU ALL STAND BACK OR I’LL SHOOT YOU LIKE THAT MAN SHOT OLD YELLER. BECAUSE YOU’RE A DOG. YOU’RE A FILTHY, STUPID DOG TO ME.”

Lowe bit his tongue.

“ACTUALLY, I WOULD LOVE TO SHOOT ONE OF YOU BECAUSE I HATE DOGS. SO COME ON. WHO WANTS IT? STEP FORWARD. GET SHOT. COME ON, NOW. NO VOLUNTEERS? YOU SIR, YOU REMIND ME OF A GERMAN SHEPHERD. I HATE GERMAN SHEPHERDS.”

Lowe could no longer bite his tongue. “Charles--WHOA, WHOA, WHOA,” he said when Lightoller turned the gun on him again. “I just, I mean, I’m worried that the ASPCA and PETA are gonna show up if you keep talking about dogs like that, okay? So just… you know, compare them to something else, maybe?”

“FINE,” Lightoller exclaimed, pointing his gun back at the crowd. “KEEP ORDER! KEEP ORDER I SAY! OR I’LL SHOOT YOU ALL LIKE… WILD DEER.” He looked over at Lowe, who subtly nodded his approval, before Lightoller turned his back on the crowd and secretly loaded his pistol. Good thing nobody actually asked him to shoot someone! That would have been major egg on his face, or however that expression goes.

“Mr. Lowe,” Lightoller said casually. “Man this boat.” Or… something. Idk. He kind of mumbles.

“Right!” Lowe exclaimed. “Is everybody alright? Nobody panic!!!”

Meanwhile, right below him, people were panicking. _Srs panic._ As the lifeboats were descending down towards the ocean, all of the passengers on the decks below were trying to jump into the boat! One of those passengers being Karen, of course, who deserved a spot more than anybody.

Didn’t they hear Officer Lowe tell them not to panic?

Anyway, Cal and Lovejoy finally arrived on this side of the boat, expecting to be let on because they were men and Lovejoy had just told Cal that they were letting men on over here, but Lovejoy must not have checked his facts first. Because they were not. Lightoller and Lowe did not play that game.

“We’re too late, you fuck!” Cal yelled. “Seriously, THE WORST valet EVER!”

Lovejoy frowned. “There’s more boats down the front…” he trailed off. Cal stared at him blankly; he had done enough walking for the day. Lovejoy sighed, understanding what Cal’s stupid expression was saying, because despite their strained working relationship they were still besties and Lovejoy knew everything about Cal. “Alright, fine. I’ll go look. Stay with this one… _Murdoch._ He seems to be quite… _practical,_ if you know what I’m saying.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Cal said.

Lovejoy rolled his eyes; Cal could be so dense sometimes. “I’m saying that you could bribe him.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, okay. Yes. Right. Quite. I’ll do that.”

Suddenly a woman started shrieking from below! Oh no! Cal, being the nosey guy that he is, eagerly looked over the side of the ship to see what was the _happ._ Down by the water, a lifeboat was lowering itself on top of another lifeboat! Ohhhhhhhhhhh the drama. One of the burly Aussies who had escaped from the engine room was vigorously trying to cut the ropes so they could row away in time.

“WHY ARE NONE OF YA FUCKS HELPING ME? CRIKEY!” he screamed, cutting and cutting and cutting. There were tons of knives laying around; anyone could have picked one up and helped him, but they just assumed that because he was burly he could manage on his own. “Fuckin’ cunts, I swear!” he muttered.

But regardless of being one of the most burly men ever to exist, he still couldn’t cut fast enough! “Oy, why don’t ya rich cunts hold up that other boat with your hands there so I can finish cutting this, yeah?” he asked to nobody in particular. All of the rich bitches on board looked at each other and then back at him and slowly shrugged. _“Fuckin’ cunts!”_ he exclaimed, realizing that he now had to hold the other lifeboat up on his shoulders while he continued to cut the ropes.

“Never had to do any of this shit back in ‘Straya!” he grumbled. “Oy! Why don’t you cunts stop lowering the lifeboat for a mo, yeah?!” he yelled up at the lifeboat above them.

“No, fuck you!” one of the minions responded from above.

_“Fuckin’ cunts!”_ the burly Aussie groaned, continuing to cut the ropes and hold the lifeboat up on his burly shoulders.

Meanwhile, back on Lowe’s lifeboat, they were lowering down towards the water as well. Lowe’s right hand minion was still poking people in the belly with his fence post, kindly asking them to stop trying to jump onto his boat, and Lowe was assisting by doing all the talking. “Stay back! No, please, please stay back! We’re full! The weight was tested with 70 men and we have met that limit! Please catch the next one!”

Murdoch had given Lowe his pistol before they had started their descent, but Lowe didn’t want to have to shoot anybody! So he raised the pistol in the air and covered his ears with his other hand (he had big hands, okay?) and then winced before shooting off the pistol three times into the air.

**~*~*~*~Cal’s POV~*~*~*~**

I heard three gunshots go off and I boinged! All this drama was so much fun! I grabbed onto Lovejoy’s hand and dragged him over towards where the gunfire was coming from, wanting to see what was happening!

Oh, it was just Lowe shooting off into the air.

Damn.

I thought he was killing bitches.

Anyway, then I spotted Murdoch walking and I let go of Lovejoy’s hand to catch up to him. I was a very rich man and could _definitely_ bribe my way onto a boat! “Hey there, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!” I said, scooting up beside Murdoch.

“Hockley,” he acknowledged. I boinged again. I loved when people referred to me by my last name! It made me feel like I was part of the army. I was just about to start bribing him when he started shouting at other people, “You two! With me, now!” I kept following him, walking alongside him, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to shout at someone else again and I wanted to make sure I had his full attention.

After walking along for a few minutes, I finally decided it was now or never.

“I’m a businessman, you know.” I grinned over at him as we walked. “And I have a business proposition for you! By which I mean I’m very rich and have a lot of money stuffed in my pockets and I’m willing to transfer that money from _my_ pockets to _your_ pockets, if you know what I mean. And I think you know what I mean.”

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Meanwhile, at the other end of the ship, a door burst open and Jack and Rose, followed by former team leader Tommy and his disciple Fabby, fell out onto the deck. “Come on, Rose!” Jack said, grabbing her hand and trying very hard to be the team leader in this situation.

**~*~*~*~*Tommy’s POV~*~*~*~***

What a dick.

You’re a terrible leader!!!!

You didn’t even make sure Fabby and I were still following you!!!!!

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Anyway, Jack dragged Rose along behind him as they looked down towards the other end of the ship. All of the lifeboats on this side have already been deployed and were currently rowing away from the boat. This was very obvious, considering how huge the lifeboats were and the chaos that was happening around them, but Rose still felt the need to speak up.

_“OH MY FUCKING GOD THE BOATS ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”_

“Thanks, Captain Obvious…” Tommy whispered under his breath.

Fabby giggled. He didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he knew Tommy was making a funny and Tommy will always be his team leader.

Jack boinged into action, letting go of Rose’s hand so that he could jump up onto this railing and look down the ship some more. He only looked for a second, because it was still obvious even from ground level that all the boats were gone, so then he jumped off the railing and started spinning in circles as he tried to figure out what to do.

**~*~*~*~Tommy’s POV~*~*~***

What we need to do is calmly walk over to the other side of the ship: Murdoch’s side. He’s been letting men on the lifeboats. We could all grab hands and calmly walk to the other side of the ship, careful not to lose each other in the chaos, and then we could utilize Rose’s rich bitch ways to bribe ourselves four seats on the boat.

_That’s_ what we should do.

But, nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. _Jack_ is the team leader now!

And what is he doing?

HE’S WALKING IN FUCKING CIRCLES.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Just then, Rose spotted Colonel Sanders walking past with his bitches on his arms. He had just prepare fried chicken for them yesterday, so Rose knew that he would be in the know when it came to lifeboats. Nothing says lifeboats like fried chicken.

“Colonel! Are they any boats on that side?!”

“No, miss! But there are a couple of boats all the way forward! Here’s a two-piece dark meat for you to snack on while I take you there!”

Jack quickly grabbed the two-piece dark meat plate out of the Colonel’s hand, but they _did not_ wait for him to show them the way.

**~*~*~*~*~*Tommy’s POV~*~*~*~*~*~**

_Jack is such a dick._

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Jack grabbed Rose’s hand and took off in a run down the decks, Tommy and Fabby running along behind them. Jack quickly ate _both_ pieces of the KFC the Colonel had handed them, and then he carelessly tossed the trash aside.

**~*~*~*~*~*Tommy’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

_Litterbug._

I stopped and grabbed Jack’s trash and tossed it in the bin before running to catch up with them.

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, Good Charlotte was just finishing up one of their greatest hits.

“Another loser anthem!”

“Whoa-oh!”

“Another loser anthem!”

“Whoa-oh!”

“Another loser anthem!” Joel sang the last line, but then some rich bitch bumped into him, shoving him awkwardly into the middle of their little circle they had going on.

“What’s the use?” Paul sighed. “Nobody’s listening to us anyway.”

Joel glared at him. “Nobody’s listening _to you,_ you mean. I was perfection. And besides, it just makes us more punk rock that nobody’s listening to us. It makes us angsty. We can write about it on our next album. Anyway, come on, let’s play. Up next is The Click.”

The other four nodded and they started the song.

Just then, the group formerly known as Tommy’s Disciples, ran past GC on the way towards the lifeboats. Tommy listened as Joel sang his deep lyrics. “Just.because I walk like Obi-Wan Kenobi, you people talk but you don’t even know me.”

He turned towards Fabby. “Music to drown by. Now I know I’m in first class!”

“Beefaroni!” Fabby cackled.

**~*~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

This Cal guy will not leave me _alone._

I’m trying to do my job. I’m trying to direct officers, control the lifeboat lowering, and keep mayhem from spreading, but wherever I go, _Cal_ is there.

I began looking for places I might hide. I bent far over a railing, looking to see if there was a good spot there. Then Cal came over to lean against the railing next to me.

“Murdoch,” he said, like he’d just happened to accidentally bump into me.

“Hockley.”

“Hee hee hee,” Cal giggled. “It’s nice to be called that.”

I rolled my eyes. Then I thought maybe I could hide in a crowd. You know what, screw my job, and my performance review, I wanted the mob to come _back_ and save me from Cal.

I grabbed the arm of Officer Grandpa, who, by the way, is like a thousand years old. Idk how it is that he’s just my underling when he’s twice my age and then some, but I guess he’s a late bloomer.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“They’re all still aft, sir,” Officer Grandpa said.

“Do they maybe… need me… over there?”

“What, sir? No, sir, they haven’t given me any orders for you. I’m just an underling.”

“I said... do they _NEED ME over there?”_ I repeated, tilting my head towards Cal with wide eyes.

“I heard you, sir. Just because I’m twice your age and then some doesn’t mean you can make fun of my hearing aids.”

“No! Officer Grandpa! I didn’t mean it like…” I sighed. He had already stormed off.

Now I’ve hurt his feelings. And I’m supposed to give him his performance review in a few minutes. That was going to be awkward.

I figured I might just _mosey_ my way past Cal and head aft, but he grabbed my arm. God damn it.

“We have an understanding, then, Mr. Murdoch?” he asked, shoving a wad of twenties into my coat pocket. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, that’s a lot of money. That is a _fat_ wad of cash. If I survive this whole ship sinking thing, I could start a new life, in a new job, where people are actually competent! Imagine working in an office full of Murdochs! The efficiency! The things that would get done!

I sighed dreamily. Then I realized Cal was looking at me, eyebrows raised (in a weird way. Those eyebrows can’t be natural). Oh gah. I’m a professional and bribery is not professional.

But the money is in my pocket… and there’s so much of it…

But it’s _wrong…_

“What’s that?” I called out to no one. “You need me aft! Alright!” I gave Cal an apologetic smile and got the hell out of there.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So we made it to the other side of the ship, where lifeboats were still being lowered. Lightoller was having a _field day_ with his gun.

“Stand back, wild deer!” he shouted, using his arm to push people away. “Women and children _only!”_ He shot his gun in the air a few times. Then he shot a few more times at a wall on the deck. “See that? That’s a W. W for _women._ Hold on while I make a C.”

I covered my ears while Lightoller put several shots into the wall until it formed a _kind of_ C type deal. Then he did some more shots in between the W and the C to make a plus sign. It looked something like this:

. . . . . .  
. . . . . . . .   
. . . . . .

It wasn’t _great,_ but I guess I could kind of see it? Like, if I connect the dots in my mind?

He really seems to like his gun.

“Get back, sir!” Lightoller said, pistol-whipping a man. “Come through, madam, this way. Sir, what did I say? Think of it like this: If you’ve got a _willy,_ don’t be _silly.”_ Lightoller laughed at his rhyme and shot his gun in the air.

I felt some commotion behind me, and I turned around to see Tommy and Fabby, struggling to break free from the crowd. Oh yeah! Them!

“You’d better check the other side,” I ordered.

They just looked at me.

***~*~*~*~*Tommy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Um.

There are, what, like tree lifeboats left, and Jack thinks we should leave this _sure thing_ based on a _hunch?_

And suppose I do fight my way to the other side, and suppose there _do_ happen to be lifeboats around… what am I supposed to do, whip out an iPhone and text Jack to come over? With my big Irish hands? I can’t push those tiny buttons!

No, in all likelihood, on the off-chance that there are boats on the other side, Jack’s expecting me to fight through the crowd to get there, and then fight _back_ through the crowd to report back to him like a minion. And of course by then he’d probably be on a boat already.

See, if it were _me...._

I sighed. It’s _not_ me.

“Go!” Jack ordered.

I grabbed Fabby’s hand and ran off. Fuck this. Fabby and I are going to start our own church and get some new disciples. I’m not taking orders from Jack anymore. I wish him all the best, but I’m a born leader and everyone knows it.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Well, I guess I’m just a shady businessman now.

“Any more women or children?” I shouted, discreetly nodding at the men to climb into the boat. “Any women? Any children? Any women or children?” Three more men scooted into the boat. This is some shady shit.

I wanted to hurry up and lower the boat, but I felt an obligation to let Cal in on the action since he was funding my new business venture. But he was deep in conversation with his bestie.

“I found her, on the other side, waiting for a boat,” Lovejoy was saying. “With _him.”_

“ANY MORE WOMEN AND CHILDREN?” I shouted. “I’M SPEAKING IN CODE.”

“With who?” Cal asked. “Colonel Sanders? Thank God, I’m starving! Order me some popcorn nuggets, with--”

“No, with _him.”_

“With _who?”_

“With _Jack,”_ Lovejoy sighed.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh. _Oh.”_

“ANY MORE WOMEN AND CHILDREN? BY WHICH I MEAN MEN. ANY MORE MEN?”

“All aboard, Mr. Murdoch!” Ismay said.

I rolled my eyes. This bitch. Coming up here in his damn ugly robe, acting like he owns the place (when everyone knows it belongs to Mr. Andrews), deciding an extra row of lifeboats would make the deck too cluttered, yet he’s trying to act all friendly and hop aboard my lifeboat? _My_ lifeboat? And he thinks I won’t notice? This bitch.

“ANYONE ELSE, THEN?” I shouted. And then, because it was the only way to get his attention. “ANYONE ELSE, HOCKLEY?”

“Ooh!” Cal exclaimed. But then his brow furrowed. He looked like he was in a pickle.

“Come on, sir, come on,” Ismay was saying, rushing all the men onto the boat. “Do hurry! Pip pip! Nothing weird about me loading this shady boat! I’ve got no intentions to hop on myself! Step up, step up!”

Cal kept looking at me, but he didn’t make a move. Well, fuck him. He can’t play hot and cold with William McMaster Murdoch. I’m nobody’s bitch. I turned around and went back to taking lead of my shady boat.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Oh, what to _do?_

If I could just get to Rose and give her one last burn, we could be tied. We could shake hands as equals and I’d be free of this feeling, like I’m _slow_ or something. I’m not slow. I’m fast. Like a… fast… thing.

“God damn old hell!” I sputtered.

“I think you mean ‘god damn it _all_ to hell,’ sir,” Spicey interjected.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT I MEAN! I’m docking your pay.”

Then I stormed off to the other side of the ship. I could have gone the long way around, but I chose to go directly through the bridge, where officers were shooting off fireworks (shouldn’t they be shooting flares…?). But I’m far too much of a badass right now to go the long way around.

“FIRE!” one of them shouted as he shot off another firework. It exploded into the sky and spelled out the words _HAPPY 4th of JULY!_ in red, white, and blue.

“Sir, you can’t go through here!” one of the officers said.

I pushed him and kept walking.

“Oh, alright, carry on,” he said. Then, when Spicey came through, the officer said, “Sir, you can’t go through here!” Spicey just kind of shrugged at him and the officer immediately fabbed, saying, “Well, okay. Have a nice evening!”

**~*~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“That’s it, splendid,” Ismay mumbled as the lifeboat filled up. He could have said something else, but I don’t know what it was. The bitch can’t even _talk_ right. Then he gave a big old shady 360 degree glance all around the ship, shifting his eyes all the while.

I am so done with this shit.

“PREPARE TO LOWER!” I shouted. “IF ANY MANAGING DIRECTORS OF THE WHITE STAR LINE WANT TO GET ON THIS SHADY LIFEBOAT, NOW WOULD BE THEIR CHANCE! MY EYE IS TURNED THE OTHER WAY BECAUSE FUCK EVERYTHING.”

Ismay shifted his eyes around some more, and then he pulled out a black-and-white striped turtleneck and put it on. Then he put on a beret, and he twirled his mustache around so it looked extra French. _Then_ he whipped out a makeup mirror and put on white face makeup, red lipstick, and some exaggerated eyeliner, so that he resembled a mime.

Ismay tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at himself, and then the lifeboat, and then himself, and then the lifeboat. He mimed climbing aboard the lifeboat and then looked at me with a questioning glance, giving an exaggerated shrug.

“What? What are you even… I… yes, you can… yes, that’s fine.”

Ismay pretended to clap, and then he shook my hand and hopped into the boat.

“Ready on the left?” I yelled. I looked over at Ismay, who was avoiding my eyes as he mimed being stuck in a box.

“Take them down… I guess…”

Ismay breathed a sigh of relief, and then he whipped off his mime outfit. “Fooled you!” he shouted as the lifeboat lowered. “It’s actually me, Bruce Ismay! The literal worst! And you fell for it! What would a mime even be doing on a boat, you idiot?”

I rolled my eyes. Fuck this world.

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, there was a really depressing scene going on up by the lifeboats, as a father was trying to convince his daughter to get on the lifeboat without him. Srsly, I almost feel bad making fun of this, _but:_

“What the fuck are you doing? Give her to me!” Lightoller demanded, ripping the child out of the father’s hands. They have speaking roles, so I guess we should dedicate them some names. Alright, the dad can be… Father Christmas… and the girl ( _with_ the speaking role. She has a sister, but she doesn’t say a damn thing; therefore I, Jesus, am not naming her) can be… Bessie… right. Okay, so then Lightoller says, “Don’t make me pistol whip you!”

**~*~*~*~*Flashforward 84 YEARS~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*Old Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

“FATHER CHRISTMAS?” Fatty exclaimed. “ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?”

I beat him with my cane. “This is _my story,_ you fat fuck! When are you going to stop questioning me?!”

“Boss, I can’t take much more of this!” Fatty yelled, flailing his fat arms about.

“Fatty,” Brock sighed. “We’re _getting there._ The ship is sinking! Be patient!”

“You!” Fatty pointed at me with a French fry. “I’m just about done with you!”

“And _your arteries_ are just about _done with you._ So shut the fuck up and listen. Interrupt me again and I’m deporting you from this conversation,” I said calmly.

“So, Rose,” Brock said. “You were saying?”

**~*~*~*~*Flashback 84 years~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

“Alright, alright, damn,” Father Christmas said, eagerly handing over his child.

“What the fuck, Dad?” Bessie said, while Lightoller set her down in the boat. “This is going to give me serious daddy issues, you know that, right?” she said, glaring at him as she grabs a hold of her sobbing mother.

 

“It’ll be fine, darling. Don’t you worry! It’s goodbye for a little while… only for a little while. There will be another boat for the daddy’s, this one is for—”  
“You’re clearly full of shit,” Bessie said. “My daddy issues have already begun.”

So they went back and forth (back and forth) a few times and that was pretty much that.

Anyway.

**~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~***

I watched as Father Christmas abandoned his child and it reminded me of my love for Jack. Because I’m rich and he’s poor, so it’s kind of like I’m his mother in some way (but don’t tell Molly that). I turned towards Jack, who was standing _very_ close to me and clearly had no consideration for one’s personal bubble. But whatev. “I’m not going without you, Jack,” I said, using his name to make sure he understood I was talking to him and not the guy behind him.

Though, after a second look, the guy behind him was kind of sexxi.

“No, you have to,” Jack finally answered my previous statement.

“What? Don’t presume to tell me what I do and do not have to do; you don’t know me!”

“Umm… yeah I do…” Jack trailed off. “We kind of have this thing going on between us? Like, I thought we were _kind_ of dating…?”

“Just because we slept together _doesn’t mean_ we’re dating,” I said, suddenly offended because I was sensitive. “You haven’t even asked for my hand yet!”

“Bitch your hand was on my dick two hours ago.”

He had me there. “You have me there.” I said, nodding. “So, we’re… dating then?”

“I… I guess so,” Jack replied sheepishly. I don’t know how I felt about all this. We should really discuss this further. I was just about to whip out my calendar to schedule us a meeting to really talk this through, when he said, “Get on the boat.”

“No, Jack.”

“Get in the boat, Rose.”

“No, Jack. No.”

“Rose.”

“Jack.”

“Rose, get on the boat.”

“Jack, no.”

“Yes, Rose.”

“No, Jack. No.”

“Rose. Boat. Now.”

“Jack.”

“Rose. You’re still standing here. Get on the boat.”

“Jack Dawson, no.”

“Get on the boat, Rose!” Cal exclaimed, popping out of no where. Jack and I both gaspitied. Where had he come from?! Didn’t he understand that by me hocking a loogie in his face that we were through? I thought for sure by now he would have bribed one of the minions to let him on a boat!

“Oh my god. Lo--Look at you! You look… _a hot mess!”_ Cal said, staring me up and down three times. “Seriously, you look like shit. What the fuck is this around your shoulders? Is that a… _blanket?_ ROSE. I LEAVE YOU FOR 20 MINUTES AND YOU’VE ALREADY STARTED WEARING BLANKETS?”

I opened my mouth, ready to cuss him out because (a) _how dare he,_ and (b) _at least I don’t wear a wig,_ but before I could do either of those things, he ripped the blanket from my shoulders and shoved it into Jack’s arms. We were both so taken aback by Cal’s sudden reappearance in my life that we didn’t say anything. Cal then took off his coat and tried to thrust it around me.

“Come,” he said, grabbing my arm and putting it through the arm hole. “Come,” he said again, gesturing at my other arm. I looked at Jack, then looked at Cal, then looked back at Jack. Then, finally, I gave my other arm to Cal and he put it through the other hole and suddenly I was wearing his jacket.

It smelled like money.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh how I miss that smell.

Then before I could do anything, Cal started touching my face. With both hands. He ran his fingers through my hair and then cupped both of my cheeks and squished them together. “Cal--” I tried, shaking my head to try and free it from his grasp. “Cal,” I tried again, spitting out a chunk of my hair out that had gotten thrust into my mouth during Cal’s touching.

“Shh,” he whispered, “let me touche thine cheek.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Jack said, grabbing me and pulling me away from Cal’s hands. He turned us around so that his back was facing Cal and he made _serious_ eye contact with me. “Go on. I’ll get the next one.”

“Haven’t you been fucking listening?” I groaned. “It’s _women and children_ only. Are you a woman? Are you a child--” I stopped myself, but it was too late. The air horns all started going off and the spotlights all kicked in. A helicopter zoomed in and hovered over us, but not to rescue us, no. Instead, Molly Brown jumped out of the side of the helicopter, deploying her parachute just in the knick of time.

“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” Molly exclaimed as she fell from the sky, landing soundly in front of us. Her parachute deflated and landed on top of us and we all panicked for a second as we tried to get untangled. Once the parachute was tossed overboard, and Molly removed her harness, she put both hands on her hips and said, “HE’S MY CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“God damn old hell,” Cal muttered.

Molly then ran off into the sea of people and all that was left was our ringing ears from her screaming.

“How does she _know?”_ I asked, to no one in particular.

“Can we move this along?” Cal asked, tapping his foot and pointing at his watch.

I nodded, turning my attention back to Jack. “I’m not going. Not without you. We’re a team, you and I. You jump, I jump, remember? Remember when you said that to me? A few nights ago? When I was trying to kill myself and you said _you jump, I jump._ Or, you know, something like that. I’m pretty sure those weren’t the exact words, but that’s how we reference it. Do you remember that?”

Jack nodded. “I remember. But that doesn’t matter. I’m trying to save your fucking life here. I’m a survivor, okay? I’ll be better off _without you._ You’re… kind of worthless when it comes to this whole surviving bit.”

I huffed. “You’re kind of worthless in life!”

“You get on the boat, I’ll find another way. I’m sure there’s a door or something floating in the water. I’ll just swim to that and climb aboard.”

“Actually,” Cal spoke up. Oh. I forgot he was here. And is that… yes, Lovejoy is behind him. When did he show up? Was he here this whole time?

“Mr. Lovejoy,” I greeted.

“Miss DeWitt Bukater.” Lovejoy nodded.

“I have an… _arrangement_ with an officer on the other side of the ship,” Cal said.

“Bribery?”

“Of course,” Cal chuckled. “Anyway. Jack and I can get off safely--”

“Whoa, buddy,” Jack butted in. “I’m not getting off with you at all. I know I have a very friendly relationship with my BFF Fabby, but we’re _not_ gay. That time on the bow, that was just… that was just a brojob, okay?”

Cal looked at Jack with a furrowed brow, by which I mean wigs, and he nodded at me and then winked at Jack. Then he mimed me getting into the boat, then shooting Jack, and then winked again. Then he looked back at me. “Both of us. Safetly. The two of us. We’re pals now, right?” he asked, then glared at Jack again and made the motion of slitting his throat.

I have a weird feeling that Cal is not telling the full truth.

“Right…” Jack said. “See? I have my own boat to catch… I… think.”

I looked at Jack and sighed, then looked at Cal and sighed again. Then I remembered Lovejoy was still lurking in the background, so I looked at him and sighed thrice. Then I looked back at Cal and just before I could hit him with another sigh, he said, “Go on. Almost full. Teehehehehehehe.”

“I really don’t know about this, guys,” I said, looking between all three of them again. “Something seems fishy.”

“That’s just because there’s fish in the water!” Cal laughed. “Go on now. Yes, there you go. In the boat. Thatttttt’s a love,” he said, as I was suddenly being ushered into the boat. Something was very off but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it!

The minion who was loading the lifeboats gasmed at my decision to join his vessel and he grabbed my elbow to help steady me. “Step aboard miss! Welcome to R.M.S. Minion! Complimentary refreshments will be served after departure. Please keep all seat backs and trays up right! Do watch your step there! We know you have a lot of choices when traveling, so on behalf of the White Star Line I want to thank you for choosing to travel with us today!”

This was much nicer than I thought it would be!

Just before I sat down I decided I wanted to hold Jack’s hand one more time. Not for sentimental value or anything, but my hands had become quite dry out here in this cold and he was always greasy. I could just use his residual grease until we arrived in New York and I could properly lotion again.

Jack probably thought this meant something, something about never letting go, so I tried to keep up appearances as I rubbed both of my hands all over his, then wiped my palms all up and down my arms to spread the grease. “Wait, wait, one more,” I said, reaching back for his hand when I realized my elbows were quite dry too. “Okay, alright. You can let go now. Peace,” I said, letting go of his hand and sitting down in the first class section of the boat.

Just as I let go of Jack’s hands, Good Charlotte quietly started playing Hold On in the background. I found it symbolick and emo all at the same time. But this wasn’t their moment, this was _mine._ I made direct eye contact with Jack, wondering if I should have gotten some grease for my knees too, when suddenly the boat shifted and we slowly started being lowered down.

My knees were itchy just thinking about how dry they are.

I looked over at Cal, who was grinning like a maniac at me, then looked back at Jack. Then I looked at Father Christmas, who was standing next to them and trying to belong in this scene. Then I looked at the ropes, the minion yelling things, then back at Jack.

_“This world… this world is cold,”_ Joel softly sang in the background. _“But you don’t… you don’t have to go, ohhhh no.”_

Things were getting dramatic and I started to panic about my knees. They just felt so dry! I know it was because I was thinking about it, but now that I _was_ thinking about it I couldn't stop! Why hadn’t I gotten one more swipe of grease? I’m so stupid!!!!!

I looked back up at Jack again, for fun, and I saw Cal doing the slitting of the throat motion again at him. Hmmz… so strange. Cal was being honest when he said he’d take Jack with him, wasn’t he? Cal wouldn’t lie to me. Not after all we’ve been through. Eeeeeven though I did kind of spit in his face and choose Jack over him. I watched as Cal took a piece of extra rope that was laying around the decks and started tying it into a noose.

So strange, that Caledon.

_“You’re feeling sad, you’re feeling lonely, and no one seems to care. Your mother’s gone and your father hates you, this pain you cannot bear,”_ Joel continued. I related to these lyrics on a really deep level. My mother was gone and my father did hate me. I was also feeling semi-lonely in this boat, because I had never met these bitches before. And yes, Joel, I was sad about my knees.

My knees! Ugh! Now I was thinking about the dryness again!

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

“You’re a good liar,” Cal mused.

“Almost as good as you,” I huffed.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN. I still hate you, but that was _nice!”_ Cal said, high fiving me. I giggled, really playing it up. I wanted to make sure I still had a spot on this boat he had mentioned.

“There’s no, uh… arrangement, is there?”

Cal cackled. “Are you joking? Of course there is. A real man makes his own luck, remember? Do you remember when I said that to you? At dinner the other night? When you were rambling on and on about how all life is a game of luck and then I said _hehehe a real man makes his own luck, aye Dawson?_ and you didn’t say anything back because I burned you so good?”

“I remember,” I sighed.

“So yes. There’s definitely an arrangement… Not that you’ll benefit from it much.” I looked down at Rose, who was grinning up at Cal and mouthed _Nice!_ while giving him the thumbs up.

Oh.

I glared at her hard until she looked back at me. That’s right, bitch, this is _our_ moment.

“So by me not _benefiting_ from it, does that mean you were a big fat liar, liar, pants on fire?” I asked, while still making direct eye contact with Rose.

Cal laughed. “I always win Jack. One way or another.”

I sighed again.

_Shit._

**~*~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

MY KNEES.

I CAN FEEL EVERY SPECK OF SKIN DRYING OUT AS THE SECONDS TICK PAST!!!!

I tried rubbing my arms and hands all over my kneecaps, hoping that some grease would somehow transfer over to them, but it didn’t work. I was really panicking now. “Does anyone have a paper bag?” I asked, looking around at all the bitches on board with me. “I’m finding it really hard to breathe!”

“It’ll be okay,” Father Christmas’ wife, Mrs. Claus, spoke up from her spot next to me. “We’ll survive.”

“What? I’m not talking about that. My knees are just really dry and I don’t know when I’ll get to lotion next and, ugh, never mind. _Never mind,”_ I huffed, looking back up at Jack. Then to Cal. Then to Father Christmas. Father Christmas and I made eye contact and I mouthed at him, _“Your wife is a babe. Kind of a bitch, but a babe.”_

He winked at me. “I know.”

Then I looked back at Jack.

Meanwhile, we were still being lowered to the ocean. Deck after deck passed in front of me and I stared at everything. In the background, Joel was just starting to gasm. “Hooooooooooold onnnnnnnnnnnnnn if you feel like letting go!!!! Hooooooooooooooold onnnnnnnnnnnnnn, it gets better than you know!” I looked at the ropes again, then up to the rigging apparatus that was lowering the boat towards the ocean, then up to the sky, then down to my hands, then back at my knees, then back at Mrs. Claus, and then finally back to Jack.

_I won’t have dry knees._

Just as a firework exploded above his head, in the shape of a bald eagle, I decided to murr. I jumped out of my seat and ran at full speed towards the other end of the lifeboat (it was about three steps) and then I _jumped._ I had never jumped over anything ever before in my life, because rich people don’t jump, so I barely made it!

“ROSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111111111” I heard Jack scream from above.

“Oh, man. _Man._ Stop her, or… something. Ugh,” I heard Cal say.

Meanwhile, two old men pulled me back onto the ship! Whew! I’m so glad that worked and I didn’t fall to my death below! Who knew I could jump? Anyway, so then I shoved those two kind souls that saved my life away from me, because I’m pretty sure they were poor, and took off in a frantic run. _Frantic._ Hopefully Jack knows our emergency meet up place.


	10. Part Ten

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“Rose!” I shouted, even though she had clearly already left the boat, and I couldn’t see any sign of her below. “Rose! What are you doing?”

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I ran past everyone, pushing them all out of my way. Idk what all these bitches are doing here on the second deck, just _chilling_ all calmly, but it was pissing me off.

“Take that!” I yelled, pushing someone who was doing meditative breathing exercises. “And that!” I said, running through a yoga class and knocking over some people in the downward dog position.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“ROSE!” I leaned over the edge and peered at the nothingness below. I definitely didn’t see her. “No!”

“Stop her!” Cal yelled.

I sighed, then turned to Cal. “I think she left. Gah. Idk where she’d have gone. Do I stay here? Do I try to _guess_ and meet her? I just dk.”

“What do you mean?” Cal sputtered. “It’s a _ship._ There are only so many places she could _be.”_

I didn’t want to argue with him since he was still holding what appeared to be a noose. “I--ite. Um, I’mma go meet her, I think. Um, thanks for screwing me over earlier, I guess. No hard feelings, boss.” I broke into a run when I saw Cal start trying to lasso me with the noose.

“Excuse me, pardon me,” I said as I ran past everyone, sticking my hands in each of their pockets as I passed them by.

As I ran, I tried to figure out where our secret meetup place could be. Maybe the clock? Except the clock isn’t there anymore because I stole it. Damn my sticky fingers.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“And fuck you,” I said, hitting someone in the chest with my arm as I ran. God damn it, where am I going?

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Shit, my pockets were really loaded up. My pants were almost falling down. I need to take inventory. My fingers were itching to touch all the potential money I might have scored.

You know what, Rose will understand if I’m a little late.

I stopped just inside the revolving doors and began emptying my pockets to see my loot.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Oh gah. Nothing’s looking familiar. I’m so bad at navigation. Maybe I should ask for directions.

“MR. ANDREWS!” I screamed, still running at full blast.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Oh my gah! I got two dollars, some kind of stuffed animal, an ear of corn from Colonel Sanders, a yo-yo, a flask, three ciggies, and a comb! I added the two dollars to my fat wad of cash--now I have _$42.21_ oh my gah oh my gah--and sat back to look at all my goods. I’d spread them out on the floor so I could best evaluate them. What a day.

What was I doing here again?

Oh yeah, Rose!

I stood up and put everything in my pockets--except the corn. I would need a snack for the journey.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

“MR. ANDREWS!”

On my third run around the perimeter of whatever room I was in, I spotted a man leaning against a pole, wearing a sandwich board that said “GET TO A LIFEBOAT” on one side and “OR EVEN FLOATING DEBRIS, LIKE A DOOR. A DOOR CAN EASILY HOLD TWO PEOPLE” on the other.

 

“Mr. Andrews!” I shouted, running to him.

“You’re still _here?”_ he sighed. “Don’t you remember what I told you during the tour, which was only twelve hurrs ago? Or what I told you an hurr ago? Or what my sandwich board is telling you right now? You have to get to a lifeboat right away!”

“Oh, I did!” I beamed, hoping he’d be proud. “I was in a lifeboat and everything! But then my knees were so dry, and I just… couldn’t.”

Mr. Andrews shook his head and sighed.

“So whatcha doin’?” I asked.

He looked down at the bright red thing he held in his hands. “I’m blowing up these water wings for EJ. He’s still learning how to swim.”

“That’s nice of you.”

Mr. Andrews blew into the water wing he was holding, inflating it a little more. He blew a few breaths into it, and then I guess he started to feel uncomfortable. “What is it?”

“How do I get to the clock? The giant one? I can’t find it now that Jack’s stolen it.”

He put the cap in the water wing to seal the air in. _“Behind you,_ Rose.”

“Really? Like _right_ behind?” I turned around, and there it was! The staircase, and at the top of it was the giant gaping hole where the clock used to be! Wires were still sticking out of it and everything. Oh, memories. “Thanks, Mr. Andrews!” I called over my shoulder, breaking into another run.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I smacked my lips and threw the corn cob over my shoulder. Then I thought better of it and put the cob back in my pocket. I’d eaten all the corn off of it, but maybe I could gnaw on it later to make my mouth feel like I was eating something. I did that all the time back in Chippewa Falls.

That done, I rubbed my buttery hands together and set off on my search for Rose. I started down the staircase and oh my gah! She was about to run _up_ the staircase! It was fate!

“Rose!” I shouted, pulling her into a hug.

“sodfijdoifj!” she said. She kind of whimpered it like a sad dog. I hoped Lightoller wouldn’t hear it and come running.

“You’re so stupid!” I said, kissing her. “You’re such an idiot!” I said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re a fucking moron!” I said, caressing thine cheek. “You’re so stupid, you went to a Clippers game to get a haircut! You’re so stupid that you got fired from the M&M factory for throwing away all the W’s! You’re so stupid that you think Taco Bell is a Mexican phone company!”

Rose frowned. “Why are you being mean to me?”

“No, see, I’m kissing you as I say it, so it doesn’t count.”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, I have a few more. You’re so stupid, you study for drug tests! You’re so stupid, you went to the orthodontist to get a bluetooth! You’re so stupid, your IQ test results come out negative!” I finished, tenderly kissing her on the forehead. “Why’d you do that, WHY?”

“Are we done abusing me?”

“Of course, you little idiot.” I smiled and booped her on the nose. “So why’d you make that stupid jump, huh?”

“You jump, I jump, right?”

“Riiiiiight… I just thought it was more like, you jump onto the _lifeboat,_ I jump onto a plank of wood or something and meet up with you later.”

“Oh. I did not interpret it as such.”

“Well… it’s koo,” I said. “I can share my plank of wood… like, if it were a door or some such, I guess I’d give it to you. I’m not sure whether two people can fit on a door at once. I feel like they can’t. And no one’s correcting me, so...”

“Sounds G to me! Gah, Jack, I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t. Put your hands on me, Jack.”

I boinged to attention at once and put my hand on her boobs. I knew what this meant.

“No. On my knees.”

“ _Oh._ Like...” I tried to force Rose onto her knees. It sounded like she wanted to give me a blow job and I wasn’t about to complain.

“ _No._ Put your _hands_ on my _knees.”_

“Oh? I--ite.” I bent down and put my buttery hands on her knees, and she almost came. The knees are a pleasure spot! Who knew!

**~*~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I leaned over the railing and watched for several minutes as Jack massaged his greasy hands onto the knees of _my_ ex-fiancee.

This is _absurd!_

“Come,” Spicey said.

“Bitch what? Only I say ‘come’! Only I!”

Spicey tried for a different approach and pulled at my shoulder. But I wasn’t having it. I clung to the railing and watched the pornographic knee-groping scene unfold before me.

Then Spicey grabbed me by the ankle, making me fall and bump my head on the railing. Oh no! My wig! Frantically I tried to readjust my wig to a natural position while Spicey dragged me away on the ground.

If only there were a way I could get at them from a distance. Aha! Spicey’s shiny gun!

In one smooth move--a cobra-fast move, as JCam might call it--I pulled back Spicey’s jacket and pulled his shiny gun from its holster. Everyone who passed by us suddenly stopped and shielded their eyes. Then, pretending I was in an action movie, I ran along the railing and swerved around a pole, gun a-blazing.

Jack looked up from his knee-massaging just then. “Come on!” he shouted, pulling Rose along. “Move, Rose!”

I fired a shot and it hit the wooden baby cherub thing at the foot of the center railing. Like, there’s the banister going down the staircase, right? And then the pole thing at the end of the banister, and then the big round _action_ on top of the pole thing? Apparently it’s a baby cherub. Well, whatev. Fuck cherubs.

“Come on!” Jack shouted, leading Rose out of the room. I scurried down the stairs to follow them. But then, as luck would have it, after I landed on the last step and took a step forward to follow them, what should my foot land on but _the goddamn cherub thing._

As a result, I slid all along the floor and landed hard on my back, wig all askew.

So. AGAIN. _Fuck cherubs._

“You just made my list!” I told it, shooting at it a few times with the gun. Then Officer Lightoller came in.

“Are we having a shooting session?” he asked. “A gang bang, not to be confused with the group sex act? Who’s the enemy? A golden retriever? Beagle? A Cocker Spaniel? Labradoodle? Some kind of mutt?”

I set my withering stare upon the indistinguishable wooden cherub pieces.

“I see,” Lightoller said. He raised his gun and shot the cherub pieces to smithereens. I gave him a respectful nod, and then he walked out of the room. Then, just to really stick it to the cherub, I stomped all over the cherub dust. And then I peed on it. Because, like… I haven’t peed all this time? No one has? Like, I know the ship is sinking, but… people still need to use the bathroom.

Anyway. My enemy vanquished and my bladder emptied, I returned to my hunt for Jack and Rose. It was _on._

So then, gun and hand, I ran down another flight of stairs. I wondered what their position was, since I had stopped to pee and shoot things, so I took a peeksie over the railing. Oh! They weren’t that far ahead! “I’M CATCHING UP!” I yelled, shooting my gun off three times into the water below. I could have aimed for them, I was a decent shot, but I was just being dramatic at this point.

So then I ran down another flight of stairs and took another peeksie. Rose was looking up at me and sticking her tongue out, while Jack was standing next to her wiggling his hands next to his ears and saying, “Na na na na na na! You can’t catch me!” in an obnoxious child-like voice.

“Arrhmheeh!” I groaned in frustration, then kept running. There was a poor person in my way, who had stopped and stared just like One Republic, so I pistol whipped him out of my way.

“Ow!” he said.

“GET OUTTA MY WAY, YOU FILTH!” Then I pistol whipped him again, just to really send a message. Then, to make sure Jack and Rose knew I was still gaining on them, I shot off another round into the water below.

“If you’re trying to kill them, why don’t you just aim for them?” the poor person asked.

“BITCH?” I screamed, adjusting my wig before pistol whipping him a third time. “GET IT?”

“Got it.” He nodded, cupping his cheek where the imprint of my pistol was.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

Rose and I ran down the last flight of stairs, _the dining room, ___and I knew we had no choice but to run into the water to get away from Cal. I eagerly jumped into the water (if I made a cannon ball, no one had to know) and yelled for Rose to jump in. I looked back, after surfacing, and she was standing on the staircase glaring at me.

“Come on! He’s gaining on us!”

“The water? Really, Jack?” Rose sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Isn’t there a more practical place we could go? Why don’t we go back up _one_ flight of stairs, where it’s dry, and disappear into the night there? Did we really have to go _all_ the way to the bottom?”

“THIS IS WHY YOU WOULDN’T SURVIVE ON YOUR OWN!” I yelled, treading water.

“Pardon me?” Rose gasped. “You’re being very rude.”

“Rose--”

“This is not a suitable conversation! You don’t know me, I don’t know you and we are _not_ having this conversation at all!”

“GET IN THE FUCKING WATER!” I screamed, grabbing onto her arm and pulling her into the water with me. “WE HAVE TO KEEP MOVING!” So then I literally dragged her along behind me as she bitched about the water being so cold. “COME ON.”

**~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~***

“WAIT FOR ME!” I hollered, running down the last flight of stairs. They were both trying to awkwardly run through water; Rose was chastising Jack about something and Jack was calling her a rich bitch. So, I did the only reasonable thing someone in my situation could do. I fired off another bullet.

Then I slid around the last corner, almost losing my balance on some residual cherub dust that was left on my shoes, and shot my remaining bullets while making a really strange grunting sound. “Errgm Ahhfffd MERRDDDHHH!” I grunted, firing away. Suddenly there was no more bullets coming out and instead it was just clicking.

My eyes widened, bringing the pistol to my face to examine it, then tried to shoot it again. Still it only made the clicking sound. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THIS THING? I brought it back up to my face and glared at it hard, “MERRHRHMM,” I grunted at it. “My fi--my fffi--MY FIANCEE!” I screamed, trying three more times to shoot but this stupid gun wasn’t working!

Then I heard a bunch of creaking sounds, which sounded kinda like _rrrrrrrrrraafff tick tick tick grrrrrrrr errrerrrrrmmm_ and my curisoity peaked. What what what? So I turned around and realized that _we were in water!_ WHOA. In the midst of my shooting spree I had somehow ended up waist deep in water! “It’s like… a thousand knives, stabbing me all over!” I exclaimed, then looked around and realized nobody heard me.

What to dew…

So I whipped out my megaphone and screamed into it, “IT’S LIKE A THOUSAND KNIVES STABBING ME ALL OVER!!!!!!”

Jack’s head poked around a column at the other end of the ship. “TOLD YA!” Then he threw something at me. I quickly ducked, because I have reflexes like a cat, and Jack giggled as he and Rose scurried away. I looked behind me at the object that was now floating in the water.

Was that… yes, it was a peeled orange.

That poverty-ridden bastard.  
“I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR TIME TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!” I screamed into the megaphone. Suddenly, I felt my Galaxy S4 vibrate in my pocket. I removed the phone and unlocked it, opening the text message that just came in from Rose and grinning afterwards. I pinned my gun between my arm and my side, then quickly tapped out my replies.

  


_Ugh._ She knows I hate when she responds like that.

I slipped my back into my pocket and was just about to begin reapplying my wig glue, when Lovejoy came around the corner. Then a thought suddenly boinged into my brain. _The heart of the ocean._ Oh my gah… did I… _CAL, NO!_ I wanted to cry, but instead I began cackling.

“What could _possibly_ be funny?” Lovejoy grumbled.

“I put the _diamond…_ in the coat. The diamond. The _heart of the ocean._ I took it out of the safe, out of the box, and put it into my coat pocket.” I cackled manically, looking at Lovejoy and watching him attempt to do the sum in his head. I rolled my eyes when he just stood there silently, summing.

“I PUT THE COAT ON HER!!!!!!!” I screamed, throwing my head back and cackling some more, waving my broken gun around. “I saw Rose and she was wearing a blanket, so I took the blanket off of her and gave her my coat because I’m a gentleman and she looked poor! And now look where that’s left me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THE DIAMOND. COAT. HER.”

 

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

So then Rose and I ran past a bunch of dishes. We were clearly in the _crew only_ part of the ship, but because Mr. Andrews didn’t make those signs bigger, we didn’t realize it until we were passing all the cutlery and whatnot. No turning back now.

**~*~*~*~Mr. Andrews’ POV~*~*~*~**

I was standing on a cardboard box giving a sermon about lifeboat safety, my sandwich board still hanging around my neck, when suddenly I felt like someone was (once again) questioning me.

“I… It wasn’t my fault…” I whispered. I wanted those signs to be _huge._

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~**

“Ugh,” Rose sighed behind me. “Some of this china has never even been used before! That is a big deal to me. What a waste. I’ll remember this for 84 years.”

“SHH!” I hushed, dragging her down a flight of stairs. Once we got to the bottom of the stairs, I hushed her again and pointed at the stairs, then I held my hand up in a fist, tapped on the end, and made a whistling sound with my mouth.

If she was from the streets, she would know that meant _Let’s wait and see if he’s still following us._ But she wasn’t from the streets, so instead she asked very loudly, “WHAT? I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU.” While pointing at her ears and laughing.

I blinked at her. “You’re literally the worst survivor in the history of surviving. You wouldn’t last a day in Nazi Germany.”

“I don’t understand,” Rose said. “Nazi Germany doesn’t happen for another 30 years or so.”

“Oh,” I giggled. “My damn time traveling.”

Meanwhile, while we were waiting to see if Cal was still following us, we suddenly heard this really annoying screaming! It sounded like a child. Could that be… that couldn’t be Cora, could it? BUT SHE’S MY BEST GIRL. I hopped down the rest of the stairs and poked my head around the corner. “Oh, thank god, it’s just some random kid.” I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Cora was potentially still safe.

I looked back at Rose, who was giving me a dirty look.

“...What?” I asked, scared to know the answer.

“ _I’m_ your best girl.”

“Right,” I lied, “of course you are.”

Meanwhile, the kid was still _screaming_ at the top of his lungs. We’ll call him Seb. “MOMMMMMA! MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMA! MOMMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Man, he was really annoying. Couldn’t he function on his own?

I looked back at him and gestured with my hands. “Shoo! Shoo!” I looked back at Rose. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“We can’t just leave him,” she said, in a bitchy tone.

“Oh, so you’re fine with me hanging out with that Momma’s boy over there, but you’re _not_ fine with me talking to Cora?”

“You mean Cunty?”

“Cora.”

“Cunty.”

“Her name is _Cora.”_

“She’s a _cunt_ and I will refer to her as such,” Rose huffed.

“MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMA! MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMA!” Seb kept screaming.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Alright. Let’s go get this whiney little guy.” So then Rose and I leaped into action and I scooped the filthy kid up in my arms. “Hey buddy,” I said, “where’s that Momma of yours you’re crying for?”

“She--” he sobbed. “She was in the kitchen last time I saw her!”

“Ha, where a woman belongs!” I laughed, bringing the kid’s hand up to high five me.

Then I heard the faint sound of a megaphone and Cal’s voice call out, “ _WINNING!!!!!!”_

I chuckled, oh Cal.

Anyway, then Rose and I went to scurry off towards the kitchen to find Mrs. Lefebvre, but we realized that water was about to break through the doors! Oh no! So then we spun around in a circle twice before deciding to go the other way. But then we noticed water was breaking through on that side, too! Oh shit!

Then, after we had spun two more times and decided to head towards option #3, this crazy man came out of _nowhere_ and started yelling at me in, according to the script, Czech. Well... this should be interesting. “Prague! Ivana Trump! Kolaches!” he yelled at me, in Czech, as he grabbed Seb from my arms.

“Ummmm do you know this guy?” I asked Seb.

He shrugged.

Then, the angry Czech man pushed me and then grabbed a suitcase that was laying on the ground.

“Hey!” I yelled. “ _I_ was planning on taking that, you bastard!”

He yelled something back at me in Czech, but considering I was not fluent and knew nothing, and I mean nothing, about the Republic of Czech, I couldn’t tell you what he said. But I’m sure it was mean.

My jaw dropped at his meanness. Then he went to open one of the doors that had water bursting out around all the edges! “Hey, you idiot! Don’t do that! That’s the wrong way, come back!” Rose and I both yelled in unison as we chased after him.

“MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMA!” Seb screamed.

“YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG FUCKING WAY, YOU DUMB CZECH BITCH!”

Then, just as he was realizing the error of his ways, suddenly the door broke! OH MY GOD. “RUNNNNNNNNNNNNN!” I yelled at Rose (Czech and Seb weren’t my problem). Rose and I ran as fast as we could down the Option #3 hallway as the water rushed all around us and tried to knock us over.

“ARRGFVGFHHHH” I screamed, making the ugliest face possible.

Rose was panting next to me, making an even uglier face than I was.

We would both laugh about these faces later on.

But now now. Not this night. Not like this.

We thought we were being sly, but the water caught up with us and rushed under our feet, making us slide down the corridor.

Whee! It was like a water slide!

Except instead of sliding gracefully into a pool of water, we crashed up against a gate, which kind of killed the mood.

“Unhh!” Rose grunted when she crashed into the gate.

“GRAWWWWRR,” I roared, like a dinosaur. Then I grunted some more and got behind Rose, wondering if it might be a good time to line us up and insert. But the water was getting in the way, so I got over it and continued on my merry way, grabbing onto the wall to keep from falling over.

“This way!” I said. I made sure to make a lot of weird grunty noises as I dragged myself through the water. “Uggghghgghgh! Come on! Give me your hand!” I pulled Rose over to the staircase I’d dragged myself to, and then, with one big burst of energy from my calcium-deprived bones, I put my hands on her bum and pushed her out of the water and towards the stairs with all of my might. “GGUHGGUHGUGUGGHGHHHH!!!” I grunted.

“Bitch? You don’t have to act like I’m so heavy. I’m just big-boned from all the calcium I get.”

“Must be a lot of calcium,” I said testily, rubbing my sore arms.

“And the water adds ten pounds.”

“Must be a lot of water.”

“You fucking think?” she snapped, gesturing at the water that was threatening to drown us. Ohhhhhh, riiiiiiiiiiiiight. I had to focus.

So then we climbed the stairs to another gate. We pushed and pulled and grunted and groaned, but the gate didn’t budge. Damn it! Why did I waste my one burst of energy on pushing her up?

“Oh, God!” Rose said.

“HELP!”

We both kept struggling to open the gate. Every few seconds we’d stop to make sure the water was still pooling at our ankles (it was) before resuming our struggle activity.

Then we heard footsteps! We were saved!

“HELP!” we shouted again. A steward emerged, scurrying through the halls and about to go up the set of stairs on the other side of the gate.

“Wait, sir!” I shouted. “Sir, open the gate, please!” See how polite I was being, using “sir” and everything?

“Help! Please!” Rose chimed in.

“But my show starts in _one minute,”_ the steward said. “My name is Eric, by the way, if referring to me by name makes things easier for you. But listen, Friends is about to come on _any second_ , and the last episode was Ross and Emily’s wedding, and then we find out that _Chandler and Monica slept together_ AND that Rachel still loves Ross AND that Ross said Rachel’s name at the altar. Whaaaaaaaat? So… I’m so sorry, but… this is a can’t miss.”

“Please, sir! Please help us!” we said in unison.

Eric turned to go back up the stairs, but then he paused. “Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ite,” he said, running back the stairs toward us. He pulled out a ring of keys and started putting it into the lock.

“Hurry up, bitch,” Rose said, furiously tugging on the gate.

“Could you stop shaking the gate like that, please? It makes it kind of difficult to put the key in.”

“COME ON!” I shouted, thumping at the gate with my fists.

“COME ON!” Rose yelled, kicking the gate.

“I--please stop. You’re making it really hard for me to--”

“GO! GO!”

“Please!”

“Come on!”

 

“Hurry!”

“I really don’t respond well to being yelled at,” Eric said, struggling to fit the key in with a shaking hand.

By this point we had constructed a battering ram and were preparing to slam it into the gate.

“Look,” Eric said, “you can’t have it both ways. Either let me unlock the gate or try to bust through it yourself by sheer force, but you can’t do _both at once.”_

“SHUT UP AND DO IT!” I screamed. We ran the ram against the gate, but still it didn’t budge. Good thing our trusty pal Eric was trying to unlock it at the same time!

Suddenly a light near Eric flickered off and released a shower of sparks.

“Oh gah!” Eric said, ducking to avoid the sparks. Then--completely through his own fault and not because we were rattling the gates with a battering ram--Eric dropped the keys.

“Oh gah…my b… oh noooooooo… Ohhhhhhhhhhhh… Well, I guess I’ll go watch Friends now.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” we shouted.

“No,” Eric murr’d. “I’m a good person. You can see it in my eyes. And I was trying to help you, but you dicks just yelled at me the entire time and made it impossible for me to help. So fuck you. Now I’ve missed the Friends intro, so now I don’t know what happened right after Ross said Rachel’s name and I don’t know what kinds of new scenes they put in the credits. I’m just gonna have to tune in five minutes late and try and piece everything together. So thanks a lot for ruining my evening.” With that, Eric ran up the stairs, leaving us behind.

“Please!” Rose continued shouting, even though he was clearly gone. She continued pushing and pulling the gate, but I had an idea!

I sucked in a breath of air and dove underwater. I snaked my skinny impoverished hand under the gate and felt around for the keys. At first all I could feel was Rose’s heels stomping around, but finally my greedy hands closed around the ring of keys.

Then I burst above the surface like a dolphin (GOD I LOVE DOLPHINS). By now the water had risen to our chests. It was like a thousand knives--well, you get the gist.

“I got it! Which one is it, Rose?”

“Um… how would I know which key it is? Do I look like a minion to you?”

I shrugged. “Idk. I don’t know anything about keys because I’m fucking homeless. I don’t _have_ or _use_ keys. I live under a bridge like a troll.”

“Wyelllllllllllllllllllllll,” Rose sighed, glancing at the keys. “The sharp one! Try the sharp one!”

“Bitch? What does that even mean?”

“The key that’s sharp, obviously!”

“But what’s…” I sighed. She was still looking at me like an idiot for not knowing what sharp keys are, so I held out my arm and dragged each key down my wrist. Most of them didn’t do anything, but one of them drew blood. That must be the sharp one! I felt around for the lock with my hand.

“Hurry, Jack!”

I had found the lock and was trying to put the key in, but Rose kept _shaking the gate._ What an annoying thing to do! Can’t she see that I’m trying to insert a key?

“HURRY, JACK! HURRY UP! WE’RE ABOUT TO DROWN!”

This is really distracting! I don’t appreciate being yelled at while I do this difficult task.

“HURRY, JACK!” she said, the water nearly up to her mouth.

“IT’S FUCKING STUCK CALM YOUR SHIT.” I tried moving my wrist around at various angles to get the key to go in, but it wouldn’t budge.

“JACK! HURRY! ADFOJSDFOSDJFIOFI!” she yelled, standing on her toes to avoid water rushing into her mouth.

Then the key turned into the lock!

“HURRY, JACK!!!!!!!!”

“Oh my god, I got it. _Jesus.”_ I opened the gate and Rose all fuglily and dramatically bobbed through the gate, holding onto the ceiling pipes for support as she made her way through. Then she paused, waiting for me to catch up.

“JACK! JACK!! COME ON!!!”

Maybe if my bones weren’t _so tired…_

But I swam over to her like a good lad and we ran up the stairs.

**~*~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I _hate_ my life.

So after I’d unloaded all the normal lifeboats on my side, it was time to slum to the collapsible. Which is on the goddamn roof of the officers’ quarters. With no way to get it down. Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? Is it shit on Murdoch day?

***~*~*~*~*Mr. Andrews’ POV*~*~*~*~**

While putting some glow-in-the-dark stickers on EJ’s water wings (the benefits were twofold: one, he could more easily be seen in the dark, and two, I know he likes them), I felt a shudder. Was someone questioning me?

It better not be about collapsible lifeboats A and B.

I had proposed to store them on the boat deck with the other lifeboats so that they would be easy access. But it would thought, _by some,_ that it would make the deck look too cluttered. When it seemed the only place for them was the roof of the officers’ quarters, I had proposed for them to have davits so that the officers could lower them. But it was thought, _by some,_ that davits would make the lifeboats look ugly.

I sighed and placed another sticker on EJ’s water wing. The collapsibles would just have to make another page in my book, _Told You So: Volume 53._

***~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

So I had my crew line up some oars underneath the lifeboat so that maybe we could _slide_ the collapsible lifeboat down from the roof. Which I already know is a recipe for disaster, but… I didn’t have a choice.

“Hold it!” I directed. “Hold it!” Everyone struggled to hold their grip on the lifeboat as they tried to guide it down the oar slide.

Except… lifeboats are incredibly heavy. So it just kind of broke some oars and fell and part of the side splintered a little. Great. Something else for me to fix.

You know what, I’m calling a time out. I’m taking my fifteen.

I walked over to the ladder leading down to my quarters, where I’d left a turkey sandwich for myself. I was going to sit on my bed, have my turkey sandwich, maybe catch a few minutes of tonight’s Friends episode. I was dying to know what the ramifications of Monica and Chandler’s one-night stand would be.

But… oh. Water was gushing all over the base of the ladder. My quarters had flooded.

My sandwich :(

I took a moment to process, and then I steeled myself and declared my fifteen minutes over. Back to work. God knows these idiots can’t survive without me.

“Get these davits cranked in!” I ordered. “And get the falls hooked up!” I pointed to the falls and then the place where the falls needed to be hooked up, just so everyone understood what I was asking.

But I knew that no matter how much I explain it, they’d do a terrible job, so I know I’m going to have to redo everyone’s work either way. Incompetent bastards.

***~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~**

So then I parted ways with Lovejoy.

I sent him off on a journey to retrieve the diamond. I lied to him and told him that he could have it if he were able to catch up with Jack && Rose. But, this scene was deemed unimportant and therefore we are not going to talk about it.

So then I ran back up all the stairs (I was quite fit) and decided it was _me_ time.

_Caledon_ time.

It was 2am _Cal_ time.

Cal ti.

And because it was Cal ti, I knew I had to save myself. If Rose wanted to drown with that poverty-ridden filth, then… that was her prerogative. Good luck ever having a nice meal ever again. Or socks. Or being warm at night. I've heard cardboard boxes don't do shit to block out the cold.

So once I finally made it back up top, I burst through one of the side doors and stumbled out onto the deck. Unfortunately at this time, the border control had lost the game and all of Jack’s people were everywhere! As I stumbled out of the door, one of those smelly people ran right into me! So then I spun in a circle, trying not to pass out of from the smell, and decided to head down to the back end of the ship.

But there was a herd of poverty coming right at me!

Oh gah!

It reminded me of that scene from the Lion King. But I was better than Mufasa and therefore I would survive this herd.

So I spun around again (and then once more because it’s fun) before running in the direction of one of the last available lifeboats. If this was the direction the rats were going, it was good enough for me!

This time I _was_ referring to the poverty as rats.

Anyway, with my wig flapping in the wind, I sprinted towards the lifeboats but… I stopped shortly when I realized _how many_ poor people were trying to get on this lifeboat. Maybe I should go check the other side? I wasn’t quite sure how long I’d _be_ in this lifeboat, and my tolerance level for poverty would only allow me to spend about 45 minutes consecutively with any given filth.

_What tew dew._

I wondered if maybe I was just being _blocked_ by the poor, while they still boarded rich bitches like myself, so I jumped up onto this contraption to try to get a better peeksie. Ugg, how did these filthy people get to be so tall? They _had_ to be calcium-deprived!

I heard an annoying noise and I tried to ignore it, but after about seven minutes of this screeching/sobbing sound I finally gave into my curiosity and looked down.

And what did my eyes land on?

_A fugly poverty child._

“Oh god,” I gagged, looking away and breathing through my mouth.

_Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up,_ I told myself over and over again, focusing on my breathing. Okay… okay yes, I’m fine. Beginning to breathe through my nose again, I tried to tune out this filthy child’s cries but _gah. They were so loud._ I switched back over to mouth breathing before looking back down at her. “Can you cut that out?”

“WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” she wailed.

I gave her a look of disgust. “Stop that.”

“WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

I rolled my eyes and removed one of the twenties from my pocket. I crushed it up into a ball before throwing it at her, knowing that that would shut her up.

It did.

***~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, Jack and I were running up stairs.

_Again._

My thighs were going to be rock hard by the time we were done. This is the most I’ve worked out since… well, ever. Rich people are naturally skinny. Anyway, so we were running up these tiny stairwells and I’m _pretty sure_ we were back in the crew section. If only the signs were more obvious…

**~*~*~*~*Mr. Andrews’ POV~*~*~*~**

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I sang, fitting the water wings onto EJ’s arms. I smiled at him, gently grabbing his other arm to fit the next. “You make me happppppppy when skies are grey!”

He giggled.

“You’ll never know dear, how much I looooooooooooooove you.” I booped his nose. “So please don’t take my sunshine away! There you go, buddy,” I said, patting his shoulders once the water wings were secured. “Are they too tight?”

EJ smiled. “Nope!”

Suddenly I felt a chill go up my spine. Could that be… _DAMMIT!!!!_ I held up my pointer finger to EJ, signaling for him to give me a moment, before I crossed the room and opened up one of the windows.

I didn’t need a megaphone, because I was a megaphone.

“I WANTED RETINA SCANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed out the window, knowing that whoever was questioning me would hear. “IT WASN’T MY FUCKING FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I paused halfway up one of the stairs cases, listening for a second before looking behind me at Jack. “Did you hear something?”

“KEEP GOING UP!” he yelled, pushing my butt to try and get me moving again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “Where’s the fire?”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE SITUATION WE’RE IN?!” Jack screamed.

“Don’t patronize me, Jack.”

**~*~*~*~*Murdoch’s POV~*~*~*~***

For fuck’s sake.

I had briefed everyone on the boarding process; I told them all to have their tickets and passports out to streamline the process and that we would begin boarding shortly.

What about that wasn’t clear?

But did they listen?

NO.

NOBODY EVER FUCKING LISTENS TO ME.

So instead of calmly _lining up_ to prepare to board the lifeboat, everyone was crowding around me and screaming things at me! A few of them were trying to butt in front of other people and get into the boat now! THE BOAT WASN’T FUCKING READY YET. The minions hadn’t put Sky Mall in everyone’s seat back yet!

“STAY BACK!” I yelled. “STAY BACK! It’s _not time to board yet!_ We’re working as fast as we can, but you have to stay back until I give you further instructions!” I yelled, but they weren’t listening.

That’s it.

I’m _done._

This day was _the worst._

I just can’t take it anymore.

So I did the only thing I could do: I whipped out my pistol and started pointing it at people.

“THAT’S RIGHT, BITCHES. I’M DONE. MURDOCH IS DONE. I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND WITH YOU LOT ANYMORE!!!!” I screamed, pointing my pistol at everybody all at once. I had gun skillz.

Suddenly, the one with big Irish hands stepped to the front of the line as if he were some sort of team leader. Didn’t he know this was _my_ ship now? I’m the only one keeping things in order! I’m the only one thinking rationally!

“WOULDJA GIVE US A CHANCE YOU LIVE, YOU LIMEY BASTARD?!?!?!” the Irish one yelled.

“I _am_ giving you a chance to live, you fucking idiot!” I exclaimed, pointing my gun at him. “You are all fucking it up! I have a process! If you guys would just listen to me, we could all safely get off this damn ship!”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Okay. I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood. Don’t worry! I’m a team player! I like to lead by example. I like to empower my people. You do your thing, boo, I’ll just patiently wait here, okay?” he asked.

Finally. Someone with a brain.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

Then _Cal,_ of all people, popped through to the front of the crowd. _Ugg,_ I _definitely_ did not have the patience to deal with _him_ right now. He blinked at me wildly, his wig half on and half off his head, before he swooped in and got all up in my space.

“I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL!” he screamed.

His breath stank.

“A _deal?”_ I exclaimed, reaching into my pocket and grabbing the wad of twenties he had slipped in there earlier. “FUCK your deal. FUCK your money. I’d rather be _his whore”_ \--I gestured at Tommy--“than your wife!” Then I threw the money at Cal and it rained down around everyone. All the poor people started fighting over it, elbowing each other out of the way as they shoved twenties in all of their pockets.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!!!” one of them screamed from the bottom of the dog pile.

“I fuckin’ hate dogs,” Lightoller mumbled from his spot nearby.

Cal stood in the middle of the raining money and kept giving me this stupid look.

Calm as ever, because I was _just so done,_ I said, “Your money can’t save you any more than it can save me.”

“I… I don’t know what that means. My money _can_ save us. Both of us.”

“I’m _done,”_ I sighed. “Y’all are worthless and I’m sick of being responsible for your safety. NOW GET BACK!” I exclaimed, pushing him with the barrel of my gun until he was back in position. I took a few steps back, pointing my gun at different people and hating everything in the world. At least there was _one_ reasonable person in that whole group: the Irish one who I had just had a sensible conversation with.

Then, because apparently people didn’t understand how done I was, one of the poor people climbed this rope type deal and tried to jump over everyone and swing into a lifeboat! Who the fuck did he think he was? Rule number one was NO BUTTING. I _went over that_ with everybody! WHY DOES NOBODY EVER FUCKING LISTEN TO ME?!?!?!?!?

So… I shot him.

Because seriously, he deserved to fucking die.

And now that I have a death count, maybe these fucking fools will take me seriously.

But then something happened that I hadn’t expected! The sensible guy, Tommy, he suddenly lunged at me! What the fuck? _Why would he do that?_ Was he trying to take my gun? Did he lull me into a false sense of security by his kind words? Why was he trying to attack me?!

So… I shot that bitch too.

It wasn’t until the gun had gone off that I realized… _ohhhhhh…_ someone _pushed_ him.

Well… that makes a bit more sense.

Le sigh. What have I done?

Gahhhhhhhhhhhh that man didn’t deserve to die.

Damn my trigger-happy finger.

I watched as an Olive Garden waiter started panicking and exclaiming things loudly in Italian. “Oh my god! Chef Boyardee! Super Smash Brothers! Rainbow road!” He was crouching over Tommy and, according to the script, watching the life flow out all over the decks. That was a disgusting way to put it.

Idk if I could live with that knowledge.

I took a few steps back, watching as the waiter tried to do CPR. I’m… not sure he knows what he’s doing. Did they teach waiters first aid at Olive Garden? I thought they were just all about the breadsticks. Hmm. Then the waiter looked up at me, frantic as ever, and yelled, “BASTARDO!”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…”

Well, I’m pretty sure the team leader was dead. That’s a shame. Also, I killed that other man… but, well, he deserved it. I thought about my options.

I could apologize for killing the team leader and hope everyone finds me sincere and then we could get back to business.  
I could shoot the Olive Garden waiter, since he was the only one who appeared to be upset by his team leader's death.  
I could run away from my problems and go jump onto one of the boats on the other side.  
I could kill myself.

I thought about it for a long while and realized that… no, I don’t want to live in this world anymore.

Everyone is stupid.

Nobody listens.

I was _most likely_ going to die anyway. At least _I_ could be in control of it.

So, accepting my fate, I stepped backwards up to the edge of the ship. I looked around at this horrible world one last time, making awkward eye contact with Cal, who was still blinking rapidly at me. He was blinking so hard his eyelash wigs were askew. Then I made eye contact with one of the other officers; I don’t remember his name, but he worked under me. So I saluted him, because it felt like the right thing to do.

It was also a pretty badass way to go out.

So then I raised my gun to my head and _just before_ I pulled the trigger, one of the guys from the band that plays during dinner services suddenly popped through the crowd and got right in my face. “WEREN’T YOU FUCKING LISTENING?” he screamed at me. I was so shocked and appalled by this, I lowered my gun slightly.

“What? Who are you? Don’t you see I’m busy?”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, extending his hand towards me. “I’m Joel Madden. I do see that you’re busy, but I had to stop you! DIDN’T YOU HEAR THE SONG WE JUST PLAYED?!?!?!?!?” he screamed.

“Um… no. I was too busy killing people.”

“THE SONG IS ABOUT _HOLDING ON_ WHEN YOU _FEEL LIKE LETTING GO._ It’s about _suicide!_ Didn’t you watch the music video?”

“What?” I asked. “Piss off! I don’t have time for this!”

“BUT WE ALL BLEED THE SAME WAY AS YOU DOOOOOO!” he suddenly started singing, directly in my face. _Directly._ His spit was hitting my face. He was about an inch away from me, screaming into a microphone that he had pulled out of thin air. (He was a magician on the side.) “AND WE ALL HAVE THE SAME THINGS TO GO THROUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

Then suddenly his band appeared in the background and the drums kicked in and the music was gasming. It was… pleasant, but not worth living for. It was pretty decent music to die to though, I must say. It was fitting.

So then I pushed him out of my face, took another step back til I was on the very edge of the decks, and then killed myself.

**~*~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Committing suicide in public. How _uncouth._ But you know what, he kind of deserved it for backing out of a business arrangement. He threw all my twenties to the winds! What if I wanted to tip a waiter or get a candy bar out of a vending machine? What would I use then? Twenties are the only small change I have!

I guess I’ll have to move on to my fifties. But people seem to get pist about making change when I give them a 50 in exchange for a bottle of water or some such. You just can’t win.

Especially not now, when I couldn’t get onto any of these stupid boats. Women and children only… what crap. Damn my manliness.

Unless…

What if I became a _woman._

I nodded in approval at my plan and ran off, looking for something to make me womanly. I found the _blanket_ (ugg) I’d rescued Rose from and ripped it in two. I stuffed one half down my shirt for breastage, and then I wrapped the other half around my head like a shawl type deal. This could work.

“WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

In the midst of arranging my bosom, I heard that awful child wailing again. God damn it. I tried to ignore her and focus on becoming a woman, but it just… wasn’t working. My jaw is too chiseled and masculine for this to be believeable. If I can’t be a woman, then…

AHA!

I took the blanket out of my shirt and used it to pick up the child (the blanket may already have fleas and disease, but I didn’t want to catch whatever this fugly piece of poverty was carrying as well).

“I have a child!” I shouted, holding her up by an ankle as I made my way toward the lifeboat. “I HAVE A CHILD!”

Officer Wilde was intrigued. That’s right, bitch. Fall for it. I bet you would have fallen for _me_ if I were a woman. “Clear a path, here!” he shouted.

“Please, I have a child! Please… I’m all she has in the world. That and AIDS, probably.”

Officer Wilde squinted at me suspiciously. I saw him eye my fancy suit and then look over at the garbage she was wearing. I was going to have to sell this more. “These are Rags © by Versace. They’re all the rage in designer children’s wear. Don’t you know anything? Are you doubting that I want the best for my precious little… snuggle...chair?” I tried to boop her on the nose, but it was hard to find where that was because she was still upside down at this point. I ended up poking her in the eye, which made her wail harder. Oops.

Wilde sighed. “Okay? Go on, I guess…?”

Ha ha! Victory! I slung the bitch over my shoulder and walked over to the lifeboat.

“Here, give her to me,” an impoverished woman in the lifeboat offered. Oh gah. So there wasn’t a first-class section after all…?

I happily handed the child over and sat down in the lifeboat. “Give it--I mean her--give _her_ here.” She handed me the child thing, who was still wailing on and on. Like… bitch, I saved your life? You’re fucking welcome?

“There, there,” I said, patting her tears dry with a 50-dollar bill. She kept wailing, so I opened a Sky Mall and idly flipped through it while she did her thing.


	11. Part Eleven

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So Jack was _dragging_ me through the first-class smoking room. What was the rush? This was where the men drink brandy and smoke cigars and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe! I wanted to give it a go now that we were here!

 

So even though Jack was rushing me through the room, I still managed to grab a cigar and a tumbler of brandy. Now I needed someone to congratulate.

Then I saw Mr. Andrews! Perfect! Except Jack was still pulling me through the room, thinking I wouldn’t see him! This bitch thinks he’s being sly but he _ain’t._

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” I said. Jack finally let go of me, which gave me a chance to awkwardly drink from the tumblr of brandy. “Mr. Andrews! Hello there, old chap!”

He was standing by the fireplace, staring at a piece of art. It appeared to be a crayon drawing of a ship, and not a very good one. The artist did not stay between the lines (if there were lines at all). In my opinion, it was not fine art.

  


“So, um… PowerPoint presentations?” I said, trying to speak Master of the Universe. I bit off the end of my cigar, spat it across the room, and bent down to the fireplace to light the cigar.

He turned away from the painting and looked at me. “Rose… what are you still doing here? How are you still here? Where are you even coming from?”

“Oh, we popped back down to the bowels of the ship for a quick spell, almost drowned, thousand knives, you know the drill!” I laughed, puffing on my cigar. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just finishing up some things. I’m almost finished inventing the DVR. EJ’s going to be thrilled.”

“Won’t you even make a try for it?” I asked.

“Won’t _you_ even make a try for it? You keep coming back, and back, and back, and back, and back!”

“I know,” I sighed, blowing out some smoke, “but there was Jack, and then my knees, and then the chase scene. It’s tiring.”

Mr. Andrews looked at me intensely, leaning to the side in the corest pose I’d ever seen in my life. Cal could learn a thing or two from him. “I’m sorry I didn’t build you a stronger ship, young Rose.”

“It’s okay, boo! We know you did the best you could with the materials allotted! So don’t you apologize about a thing! Old… Andrews…”

“Welp, we gotta go,” Jack said, pulling me by the arm.

“Wait,” Mr. Andrews said. Whoa, you can just say “wait” _once?_ And that works as well as repeating it a thousand times? This man teaches me something new every day. “Why aren’t you wearing your lifebelt?” he asked. “I’ve given you like six lifebelts tonight, and twice as many lectures about why you need to wear lifebelts! Do I need to administer a pop quiz?”

“No, no, I understand! I’m sorry. I’ll wear one.”

“Don’t worry about me or anything,” Jack piped up. “My weak bones and lack of upper-body fat will totally work in my favor.”

Mr. Andrews picked up the lifebelt and handed it to me, a sad smile on his face. “Good luck to you, Rose.”

I put down my brandy and cigar. Being a master of the universe wasn’t all that great. “And to you,” I said. Then I pulled him into a hug that seemed really short, but whatev.

Then Jack pushed me toward the revolving doors. He gave Mr. Andrews a bro nod on his way out, even though he hadn’t said anything to Mr. Andrews since we’d been talking and he spent the whole time trying to rush me away from him. But whatev. Mr. Andrews overlooked it and bro-nodded at him back, still in his core leaning pose.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Ben Guggenheim and his valet descended the grand staircase in fancy suits and top hats.

“Mr. Guggenheim,” a minion said, “these are for you, Mr. Guggenheim.” He held out two lifebelts. “I had to search all over and kill a bitch or two to get these, but I thought that you, as a rich bitch, deserved them more than anyone else. Also, I love you.”

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Mr. Guggenheim. “Kthx, but we are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down as gentlemen.”

“When you say ‘we,’” his valet, Jimmy said, “do you mean you and I? Because… I’d rather go down fighting. Thanks but no thanks.”

“Oh, Jimmy,” Guggenheim laughed. “But we would like a brandy!” he called after the minion.

“See, that’s another thing, I’m a recovering alcoholic and--”

“I pay you to do as you’re told, bitch.”

Jimmy fabbed and shut his mouth.

**~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I made pretty good progress, all things considered. I was three episodes into my favorite Wiggles eppies! I just finished the one where Greg refuses to eat his broccoli (I can relate, buddy!). I was about to start the next one, but then I needed a bathroom break… and then I made a wrong turn and ended up on the deck. And gah, it’s awful. There are so many _people._ But they’re all ignoring me, thank gah. I watched a bunch of officers and passengers use rope to try to flip a lifeboat over. That looks like hard work. I’m glad that’s not me!

I tried to remember which way was the way back to my room. Then a lady came up to me, holding a baby in her arms.

“Cappy-tan,” she said.

I looked behind me to see if she was talking to anyone else.

“Cappy-tan,” she repeated.

Oh. I guess she’s talking to me…?

“Where should I go? Please?”

“That’s a really good question!” I said. “And the answer is that I don’t know. But maybe you can help me with my question: where should _I_ go?” She just stared at me, so I tried to make some friendly conversation. “I like your baby. Does he like broccoli? I don’t.”

She just kept staring.

“Do you like broccoli?” I tried.

“Yes.”

Oh. Well, we had nothing in common, then. So I turned around and started walking away.

“Captain!” I heard someone shout behind me.

I took a breath and just kept walking, pretending not to hear. I’d had it with all these weirdos. Just a few more steps to that room and I can close the door…

“Captain! Sir!” Oh gah, he caught up with me. He held out a lifebelt for me to take.

I looked at it. “That’s very kind of you! And I’m glad you’re listening to Mr. A’s warnings about wearing a lifebelt. But I don’t need one. I have these,” I said, motioning to the red water wings with glow-in-the-dark stickers on my arms. “So you keep that for yourself, friend!”

I walked over to the bridge, where there was water going past my ankles. There was the wheel! And I don’t have to steer that stupid thing anymore! It was hard over!

**~*~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO TWENTY MINUTES AGO*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“You remember what I told you, EJ,” Mr. Andrews said, adjusting the water wings on my arms, “about hard over?”

I thought back to the time I lost Handcar Havoc. “Yes! You turn until you can’t anymore. So the hard part is over.”

“Very good!” He reached behind him and held out a Kit-Kat bar. I reached for it and tore open the wrapper.

“Well,” he said, watching me put one of the sections into my mouth, “there’s going to be another hard part.”

“I have to steer the ship some more?” I asked, offering him a piece. He shook his head, so I put it in my mouth instead.

“No, no, nothing like that. But--look at me, EJ.” I obeyed, looking up from my Kit Kat. “The ship will sink, and that will be hard. But that’s what these water wings are for. You stay safe, and be brave, and I will come find you. And then the hard part will be over. Okay?”

I grinned. “Okay.”

**~*~*~*~*~*FLASH FORWARD TO PRESENT*~*~*~*~*~*~**

I waded out of the bridge and went to the wheelhouse. Not only did it have way less water, but most importantly, it had A DOOR. Which I closed immediately.

Ah, alone again. I smiled to myself and put in my Wiggles DVD.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, Good Charlotte was finishing up their set.

“We’ll see youuuuu when we get there! We’ll see youuuuuuuuuuuu when we get there!!!!!” Joel screamed into his microphone, kicking over an amp and pointing at people as they ran past. “On the video!!!!! On the radio!!!!” he continued, going into the crowd of people and trying to start a mosh pit. “In the magazines!!!! On the movie………………………screens!”

The people who had been running past stopped and clapped for them.

“Encore!” one of them yelled.

“You guys have been a great crowd!” Benji said into his microphone. “Thank you guys so much for supporting us over the past four days at sea!” Then he kicked his mic stand over and smashed his guitar over the amp that Joel had already broken. They were _so_ punk.

Then the crowd went back to panicking.

Joel sighed happily, clapping each member on their backs. “So that’s it then, boys.”

“Right,” Paul said, nodding. “Well, I’m off to find dinner.”

Chris shrugged. “Yeah, and I have to go shave my head.”

***~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS~*~*~*~*~***

“Wait a minute,” Fatty sighed. Everyone groaned--hadn’t he learned his lesson on interrupting yet? “Didn’t Chris Wilson leave Good Charlotte after Chronicles Of Life & Death was released?”

Rose nodded. “Yes. But you see, they replaced him with this really odd guy--I think his name was Dean, but we’ll refer to him as ‘Worthless.’ They replaced him with Worthless and they put out a few more albums after that, but Chris was always in my heart. And this is my story, so I can decide who the fuck the drummer of Good Charlotte is, GOT IT?”

“You can’t just _change_ history!” Fatty exclaimed, digging out a Twinkie from his man purse. His murse. “So far your story is 99% accurate and you’re just gonna _fuck it all up_ by changing out a band member? You’ll lose all your credibility! When people realize you’re changing band members around, they’re gonna think everything else is bullshit too! What’s next, you’re gonna tell me that Molly Brown didn’t actually jump out of a helicopter?”

“CHRIS WILSON WILL ALWAYS BE THE DRUMMER OF GC TO ME!” Rose screamed, completely ignoring all of Fatty’s cold hard facts.

“But he’s _not!_ He was _replaced!”_

“I’m going to replace _you_ if you don’t sit down and shut the fuck up!” Rose exclaimed, glaring at Fatty hard. “Anyway, so then Billy said--”

**~*~*~*FLASHBACK 84 YEARS~*~*~*~***

“I have to go, um…” Billy Martin, not to be confused with Minion Billy, paused as he tried to remember what his purpose in life was. “Do… something. Idk. I’m gonna go tune my guitar over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of a lifeboat. “And design my next shirt. I call it Level 27 because it’s 27 levels of punk.”

“I’ll help you,” Benji said, because he was a true pal.

They all patted each other on the back and exchanged bro hugs before parting ways. Joel hung back, watching as his bandmates/twin walked away from him and he realized _now_ was his time to shine. He had always wanted to go solo! Everything was working out wonderfully!

He thought for a second, trying to decide which song he would sing. He wanted it to _mean_ something. Hold On had been such a great tune to play earlier; he had to pick one with equally _deep_ lyrics so that they’d get the right impression of him as a solo artist. He compared their lyrics to the current situations and only one song popped into his brain.

This would be perfect.

So then he whipped out his harmonica (he didn’t play any real instruments, you see) and began playing the familiar tune. Then, because he was a really talented harmonica player--not that Benji would ever let him shine--he began singing along to his tunes. “I need an alarm system in my house so _IIIII_ know when people are… _creepin’ about;_ these people are _freakin’ me out--”_

“THESE DAYS!” Benji suddenly appeared next to him, just in time to sing his line.

What the fuck? THIS WAS JOEL’S MOMENT.

“It’s getting hectic everywhere that I go,” Joel sang, glaring at Benji. Sometimes he really hated being a twin. _“They won’t leave me alone.”_ He pointed at Benji. “There’s things they all wanna know.” Suddenly, _EVERY SINGLE MEMBER OF GOOD CHARLOTTE WAS BACK AND PLAYING THEIR INSTRUMENTS NEXT TO HIM._

Joel should have never left Waldorf.

**~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV~*~*~*~***

So then my Wiggles episode ended, the one where Jeff sleepwalks and thinks he’s a cow (oh, that silly Jeff!), and I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. I knew Mr. Andrews had said the hard part wasn’t over yet, and that a bunch mo’ stuff was gonna go down, but as I looked around the empty room I couldn’t help but notice the water outside getting higher and higher!

I fidgeted in my seat, readjusting my water wings on my arms while biting down on my bottom lip. I wonder how long it would be until Mr. A came to find me? I sighed quietly, deciding that I probably had enough time for one more eppy. That would surely take my mind off this.

**~*~*~*~*Mr. Andrews’ POV~*~*~*~**

I stood in front of the fireplace, one arm braced in a co’ position against the mantle, and a pocket watch held in my other hand. We had exactly 15 minutes and 23 seconds until we would be completely sunk.

I had done all I could at this point.

With my sandwich board tossed aside, I took a sip of Rose’s brandy that she had left behind and glanced up at the clock in front of me. Oh, it was running three seconds slower than my pocket watch. Well, that won’t do. I set the brandy down on the mantle and then went to fixing the clock.

Once the clock was fixed, I noticed something _really_ obvious out of the corner of my eye.

Was that…

I watched as the string that was tied around Rose’s brandy glass got pulled taut, pulling the entire glass off the mantle and onto the floor. Was that supposed to look real? I looked behind me, glaring at James Cameron.

“Buddy,” I said, “millions of dollars was spent on special effects. You couldn’t _CGI_ that glass falling off the mantle? You had to tie your used dental floss around it? Seriously, man, what is wrong with you?”

“Sorry, your majesty,” JCam sighed, rubbing his suspiciously old-looking hands together. “I’ll, uh, I’ll make it look real in the final cut.”

“Sure,” I said, huffing quietly as I turned back around to face the clock. That string would always be visible.

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~**

Anyway, while Mr. Andrews dealt with the JCam situation, back in one of the rich bitch suites, an old couple was getting ready for bed.

“Ida?” Isador asked. “Can you get the lights?”

“Get it your fucking self, Isador,” Ida sassed. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“The boats are all _gone,_ Ida,” Isador sighed, repeating himself for the 36th time this evening. “We might as well get some beauty rest before we have to swim for our lives, okay?”

“Men,” Ida huffed, lying down on her side of the bed. Isador grumbled as he turned the light switch off before crawling into bed behind his bitch of a wife. He should have divorced her years ago. “Don’t touch me,” Ida hissed when he tried to spoon up behind her. “I’m still mad at you!”

Isador rolled his eyes before turning his back on Ida. They lay buttcheek to buttcheek as they waited for the inevitable.

Meanwhile, back in the belly of the beast, Mrs. Horan was telling a bedtime story to Niall and Hermione. It was amazing, really, because they were back in their stay rooms. But, you see, their stay rooms were in the slums… which is in the bottom of the ship.

But… the ship was _basically_ under water now.

So the fact that they’re somehow dry… well, I’m not quite sure these facts all lined up. But, who am I to judge? I’m only _the son of God._ Anyway, Mrs. Horan had tucked Niall and Hermione into bed and then proceeded to tell them a bedtime story so that they could fall asleep--which, actually, come to think of it _was another completely stupid idea._

Because (a) these children would be _scared to death_ and _would not be able to fall asleep._ No matter _how_ comforting Mrs. Horan’s voice is.

And (b), even if they _did_ somehow manage to fall asleep… _WHEN THE FUCKING OCEAN WATER_ came into their room, IT WOULD WAKE THEM THE FUCK UP. I don’t care _how_ sound of a sleeper you are, if you’re suddenly being submerged into _freezing water_ you’re going to wake the fuck up.

So you know what, fuck this scene.

Mrs. Horan told them a stupid story about someone living 300 goddamn years, which, don’t even get me started on that shit, and both Niall and Hermione pretended to fall asleep. End scene. Whatever. Moving the fuck on.

Back in suite 52/54/56, which was now flooded (BUT NOT THE SLUMS, NO, THAT’S PERFECTLY FUCKING DRY!!!!) all of Rose’s precious paintings were floating around in the water. Bob Ross after Bob Ross floated around the room; I guess he _won’t_ amount to a thing after all.

Meanwhile, back up top: “I rock a… lawsuit when I’m going to court! A white suit when I’m getting divorced! A black suit in the funeral home and my birthday suit when I’m home alone, talkin’ on the phone _I got an interview,_ with the Rollin’ Stone, they’re saying,” Joel sang on, despite the fact he was never going to have a solo career. If he was side eyein’ Benj the whole time, well, they’d chalk that up to sibling rivalry.

Anyway.

On the other side of the ship, Fabby finally gave up on giving Tommy CPR. He had been a little bit confused, and after blowing into Tommy’s ear a few times he had finally been corrected by a passerbyer. “Um, bro? I think you’re doing that wrong? You’re supposed to breathe into his _mouth,”_ the passerbyer had said. We’ll call him Fly By Finn.

“Oh! Gazpacho!” Fabby had exclaimed, before switching over to mouth breathing (just a little bit of mouth to mouth brosuscitation). Anyway, he had done that for about an hour and a half before finally accepting Tommy’s fate.

“Does ummm errrhh ahhh... anyone want to, mmm, how you say, funeral?” Fabby asked, looking around at all the people that passed, then gesturing down at Tommy. Everyone seemed too busy focusing on their own survival to give Fabby the time of the day. Though, at this point, Fabby was kind of used to that.

So anyway, deciding that nobody wanted to say a few words about Tommy, Fabby (respectfully) removed Tommy’s lifebelt and strapped it around himself. It had a little blood and guts on it but ehhhhhh, Fabby never had standards anyway.

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~***

Ugg, what was taking so long?

We were supposed to be on our _way,_ damn it!

I looked behind me and realized the water was getting closer and closer, but the lifeboat still hadn’t departed! And this stupid child that I had adopted _wouldn’t stop crying!_ I sighed, reaching the end of my Sky Mall and returning it to its original spot. There was a lot of commotion going on around me, and there seemed to be some drama with the ropes attached to my lifeboat.

**~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

“There’s no time!!!!!!” one of the angry minions yelled. “Cut them! Cut them! CUT THE FUCKING ROPES, GUYS! DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? WE’RE LITERALLY OUT OF TIME!”

“Actually,” Mr. Andrews’ voice came out of the night sky, “you still have twelve minutes and 51 seconds left. You’re good.”

“CUT THE ROPES!!!!!!!” the minion kept yelling.

“Nobody ever fucking listens to me,” Mr. Andrews’ God-like voice traveled with the wind. Mr. Andrews wasn’t lying when he said _he was_ the megaphone, considering his voice was carrying all the way from the dining room.

Meanwhile, Fabby realized that maybe this was his moment! He had a pocket knife! (One of the many items he had stolen while aboard the RMS Titanic.) So he excitedly reached into his pocket and then, in one of the corest moments of his life so far, he opened the knife _with his teeth._ It was a particularly dangerous move, but when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.

So then Fabby hoisted himself up and, stepping on Tommy’s body for leverage, he began sawing through the ropes!

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV~*~*~*~**

“WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

This _damn child_ was still wailing.

“You’re on my last nerve, you know that?” I said, glaring down at her.

She made direct eye contact with me and then… _“WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”_

“THAT’S IT. I’M ABANDONING YOU,” I said. “You’ve served your purpose, you little filth!” I exclaimed, gathering her up by her ankles and thrusting her into the arms of the woman next to me. Now I need to go bathe myself in boiling water to get rid of all these AIDS particles covering 90% of my body.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

So anyway, the water kept rising because the ship kept sinking. Cal, now childless, crab-crawled his way backwards up the ship, trying to avoid getting the bottoms of his pants wet. He really hated when that happened. Meanwhile, Fabby continued on with his moment of glory by cutting and cutting and cutting every rope he could find!

“No!” one of the minions yelled. “That rope’s not even attached to anything! Cut the ones that are keeping this lifeboat attached to the ship!”

“Spaghetti bolognese!” Fabby chastised. How dare they question what he was doing. Then he picked up another rope floating by in the water and began cutting it in half. Once he was done with that, he would cut _those_ halves into _quarters._ He had this shit on lock. Why were people still questioning him?

Just because he’s poor and Italian doesn’t mean he’s _worthless._

Meanwhile, back inside, the grand staircase was flooding!

Ben Guggenheim blinked wildly at the water. Why was there water inside? He didn’t know there was going to be water involved in any of this! He can’t swim! Meanwhile, his Valet/sex slave, Jimmy, was praying his final confessions to me and cursing Benny for getting him killed.

“There’s still time,” Jimmy offered. “We could still like, you know, _get up_ and try and find a lifeboat--”

Ben glared at him. “Did I give your permission to speak?”

“No.”

“No _what?”_

Jimmy sighed. Was now really the time? “No… _Daddy.”_

Meanwhile, back outside, the ship seemed to be sinking faster and faster! Water was _everywhere!_ Oh, no! But thankfully, the boys of Good Charlotte were _professionals_ and they continued performing. Even though Joel’s solo career had been tossed aside, he would at least finish up this last song before the water drowned them all.

“I just wanna live! I just wanna live! I just wanna liiiiiiiive!” Joel sang the final bit of the song, kicking over his amp for the last time. He looked around at the water flowing towards him, then to his brother, then to Paul, then to Chris and then finally to Billy. Billy was giving him a stupid look, so he bucked at him.

“Well, gentlemen,” Joel sighed. “Thanks for ruining my chances of going solo.”

Benji grinned, giving Joel a thumbs up. “No problem, _bro.”_

“I’d say it’s been a privilege playing with you guys tonight, but… I’m still kind of bitter. So. Whatev. It’s been real, I guess.” Everyone seemed to nod in agreement, except for Billy, who was still just kind of standing there worthlessly. What was this guy’s problem? Joel bucked at him again and Billy flinched. “That’s right, bitch.”

Then the water overtook them and they drowned.

RIP, GC.

**~*~*~*~*~*Cappy’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I held onto the wheel, quietly singing a Wiggles song to myself as I looked at the windows all around me. Every other room was filled to the _brim_ with water, and I could see some of it trickling into my room through door cracks. This was scary.

“Stop at the lights,” I sang. “Look both ways. Look both ways again.” The song was about crossing the street, but it seemed to be applicable to this situation. There were windows all around me, and I kept looking in each direction to make sure no water had burst through. “Wait for the traffic to come to a stop, then cross the street with a friend.” That part didn’t really apply. I really didn’t think this water traffic would come to a stop any time soon. But that’s just my unprofessional opinion.

I was about to sing the next verse when suddenly the window cracked. Then water burst through and started rushing into the room. Then the _next_ window broke, and oh my gah! Oh my gah! Water was rushing over me from every direction, and I knew in a matter of seconds the whole room would be flooded. What do I do? Where’s Mr. A? Why didn’t the Wiggles write a song about this?

I held tightly on to the wheel, hoping Mr. A would show up. By now I was almost completely underwater, so I took in a deep breath.

To distract myself, I tried to think of a Wiggles song that related to this situation. I don’t think they wrote any songs on drowning. But there were a few on swimming, so I picked one and hummed it to myself, keeping a tight grip on the wheel and trying to ignore the burning feeling in my lungs.

_Get your towel and a hat, dab some sun screen on your skin. Dip your toes in the water. It’s time to swim with a friend,_ I thought to myself.

Oh gah. What happens when my lungs run out of air? I guess I’ll drown? Why didn’t the Wiggles prepare me for this? Why didn’t _Mr. A_ prepare me for this?

Then I saw him swimming towards me, and I reached my arms out to him. The last thing I remember is Mr. A grabbing me and pulling me toward the surface, and then everything went black.

So then I woke up to find Mr. A kneeling over me, looking worried. But when he saw me sit up, he smiled in relief and patted my hand. “Hello, EJ.”

I looked all around me, seeing that I was wrapped in blankets. We appeared to be on a small boat, about the size of a canoe, and it was moving forward across the sea. Stars were glimmering up ahead, but other than that we were in total darkness.

Eh?

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “What happened?”

“You were so brave, EJ,” he said, bringing his hand to my cheek.

I smiled. I _was_ brave. “Thanks.” I examined the boat more closely. “Did you make this?”

“I know it’s not as grand as my last boat,” he said with a small sigh. “But I made it with a couple of deck chairs and other debris, and I made the engine out of my pocketwatch. I tied everything together with some floss from James Cameron over here.” He nodded his head to a strange man sitting behind him, and I immediately looked away. I’m shy around strangers.

“I’m sorry if you were scared back in the wheelhouse, EJ,” Mr. A continued. “I needed a few minutes to build this.”

“Where are we going?”

“I said I’d take you to see Beauty and the Beast on ice, remember?”

I grinned. I remembered.

“And after that, we’ll have to lie low. I really should have gone down with the ship, but I couldn’t leave my boy, could I?”

“That’s right!” Then my eyes fell on the weird man behind Mr. A. I leaned in, and Mr. A cupped his ear with a hand and leaned towards me. “What about that weird man?”

“As for James,” Mr. A said, clapping the man on the shoulder, “he traveled back in time to gather some information for a movie he’s making. I’ve told him everything I know, which is everything there is, and there’s no possible way he can mess it up, is there?” he asked, giving the man a stern look.

James shook his head, but I don’t know. He looked kind of shifty-eyed.

“How long until we get to New York?” I asked.

“Oh, it’ll take some time. But I baked you some treats,” he said, handing me a Ziploc bag of my favorite chocolate chip cookies, “and I invented the portable DVD player for the occasion.” He handed me a silvery case, and I saw that there was already a Wiggles DVD in it. “Shall we?”

I nodded, and Mr. A pressed _Play._ He put his arm around me and I leaned against him as my fifth favorite Wiggles episode began. (Idk what James Cameron was doing, and I don’t care. He could stay on his side of the boat. This was not his moment.)

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, back on the ship, everything continued to fall apart. Fabby was still cutting rope, and by this point he’d sort of figured out which ropes to cut. He got it wrong half the time, but it was progress.

The lifeboat Cal had jumped onto was flipping over, so he grabbed onto a rope. Then Fabby swam over and tried to cut it.

“Get away! Get away!” Cal said, shaking his leg at Fabby. Fabby shrugged and swam off, and Cal then used the rope for balance and stood onto the side of the lifeboat, trying to prevent it from flipping over. As if Cal alone could overpower the force of a lifeboat that weighed more than a thousand pounds. Good luck with that, buddy.

On the other side of the ship, the collapsible lifeboat was completely flipped over, and Richard from Friends was trying to hold on to the side of the ship to pull himself aboard.

Cal, meanwhile, just kind of held onto the rope and ran back and forth in the boat, feeling like a Lifeboat King. Who knows where his fugly child was.

All the unlucky people _without_ lifeboats were scurrying up the ship to stay on dry ground, since at this point about a third of the ship was underwater. And a few people were swinging on ropes and jumping into the water. What purpose did that serve? Were they Tarzan? Why were they swinging on ropes? Maybe Fabby should have cut _those_ ropes. Give him enough time and I’m sure he’ll get to it.

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

So Jack and I ran up the second level deck since the other side was getting all sunken and whatnot. Then he stopped us and peered over the edge of the ship. I don’t know what he was looking for, but I looked too, just so I seemed like I knew what I was doing.

“WE HAVE TO STAY ON THE SHIP AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!” he screamed in my face. “COME ON!”

Oh gah, more running…

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

By the grand staircase, windows were breaking as more and more water streamed into the room. People swam and freaked out. One man, who I’ll call John Travolta, clung to a cherub.

Really? You brought me back for this one scene? You couldn’t have just lumped it in with the stuff I just described up above? Bleeding me.

**~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Somehow, through magic, I guess, Jack and I ended up on the top level deck. Ugg, he was still bossing me around.

“This way,” he said. “Over the rail!” He nimbly jumped over, but I ain’t as graceful, so I kind of flopped over it. “Come on, Rose,” he said, grabbing onto me, “jump!” I held his hand as I jumped because I can’t do anything on my own. Then we had to jump again and _gah._ Is this really worth it? Maybe we should just drown.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

You’re kidding me, right?

Well, as the grand staircase area flooded, JJ Astor clung to a pole and damned his life. Other people were trying to swim towards the open area of the staircase so as not to get trapped under the ceiling.

More windows burst, and unlucky people swimming outside of the ship got sucked into the foyer if they were near the window.

And Fabby was near the window!

 

The suction pulled Fabby toward the window. “Ah, ravioli. Maybe I fab,” he said to himself, going with the flow and letting the suction pull him in. But then he remembered. The statue of liberty! While he had seen it, it was only very small, of course. He wanted to see it up close. He wasn’t going to die until he saw the statue of liberty, very big of course!

So Fabby used his arms to prevent his body from slipping through, and with one big push, he gave himself the momentum he needed to swim away from the ship. His first ever murr! You go, Fabby!

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Rose is kind of worthless.

I’ve been keeping her alive and helping her along all this time. I feel like the bitch is holding me back.

“I got you,” I sighed. “Jump!”

But of course she just lunged forward and fell.

“I’ve got you, miss,” said Drunk Baker Joughin, which I have no idea how to pronounce. He helped her up and put a Band-Aid on her knee and offered her a drink from his flask and was altogether very kind and helpful.

“Oh no!” Rose shouted. “A minion touched me! Jack, help!”

I gave the baker and apologetic shrug. _Bitches,_ I mouthed. She didn’t even thank him! He shrugged back and took another drink from his flask.

“Come on!” I said, leading Rose toward the back of the ship. Thank god she has me.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Whatever.

Cal, meanwhile, was continuing his role as Lifeboat King. He had now acquired an oar and was using it to spank swimmers on the bums with the paddle side. “Back! Back! This is my castle! And the Atlantic Ocean is my moat!” Then he took a different approach and just started using the oar to hold swimmers down for a couple of minutes at a time. When their dead bodies floated to the surface, he moved on to the next one.

Fabby kept on swimming. He was going to America!

 

But then the cables supporting the forward funnel began snapping, one by one. Ohhh… you shouldn’t have cut those ones, Fabby.

After all the cables had snapped, the funnel groaned forward and started falling toward the ocean of swimmers.

“Eh?” Fabby said, looking up. “Bruschetta!” he yelled in horror, using his hands to shield himself.

The forward funnel slammed down onto the swimmers. RIP, guys. RIP.

The wave that resulted from it gave a few swimmers the push they needed to try to climb aboard the lifeboat. But King Cal was not having it.

“No!” he yelled, hitting the swimmers in the face with the oar. “You’ll swamp us! This side of the boat is for my valuables only! Bow down to me!”

They did not bow down to him.

Anyway, back towards the end of the ship, Jack and Rose were pushing their way through the mosh pits trying to get to the very front of the line. Which happened to be the back. Jack was pulling the useless Rose along with him and using his grease to slip through the crowds of people. A few feet away from them, one guy was walking with his suitcase held above his head.

He didn’t have a section of a lifeboat to store his valuables, so he chose to carry them far above his head.

It was logical, when you thought about it.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

I was exhausted.

Rose was doing _nothing_ to help us survive.

She had laid down on the ground at one point and demanded I drag her by her lifebelt.

Idk wtf was wrong with this bitch. I thought about just leaving her behind multiple times, but I kept asking myself WWMAD and every time the answer was _keep dragging her._ So anyway, after I dragged her through the mosh pit, I forced her to stand back up because we had another staircase to climb.

“No! Carry me! I hate stairs!”

“I’m _not_ carrying you,” I said, glaring at her. “I’ve already dragged you halfway around this boat. You can walk up one last flight of stairs.”

“Do you realize how many stairs I’ve climbed today?”

“Do you realize how many stairs I’ve climbed _in my life?_ I never rode in an elevator until the Titanic!”

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned. “But let me go first so that you can help push me up, k?”

“Fine,” I compromised. So then I pushed her in front of me and began climbing the stairs behind her. “Why are you going so slow?” I asked, heaving her up the stairs one at a time. “Seriously, walk faster.”

“It’s not me,” she hissed. “It’s this guy in front of me.”

“What guy?” I asked, peering around her.

The guy in front of her, let’s call him Whitey Durham, was slowly taking each stair. He was beatboxing and appeared to be rapping. “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life and realize there’s none left, ‘cause I’ve been brassing and laughing so that even my momma thinks that my mind is gone.”

“Is he… rapping Gangster’s Paradise?” I whispered to Rose.

“Yes! I hate this song!” Rose grunted. “Almost as much as I hate these stairs.” We were still walking up the stairs at this point, because Whitey was taking his sweet old time. I watched as he pulled out a bag of trail mix and began eating only the cashews out of it. He was tossing the other bits aside and, even though I was annoyed, I still tried to catch some of them in my mouth. “Do something!” Rose whispered back at me. “Make him hurry up!”

I finished chewing the M&M I had caught before I pushed around Rose and put my hand in Whitey’s pocket to grab his Ziploc of trail mix. “YOU WANNA WALK A LITTLE FASTER THROUGH THAT VALLEY, THERE?!” I yelled, distracting him with my voice so he wouldn’t realize I had just stolen his snack.

“My bad,” Whitey said, stepping aside we could pass him. “You haven’t seen my wife Camilla, have you?”

“I have not,” I said, digging my hand into the Ziploc and greedily shoving an entire fistful of trail mix in my mouth.

Whitey grinned. “I’ve got trail mix too! I only like the cashews, though. Glad to see we have similar taste in snacks.”

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~***

Meanwhile, everywhere else, the shit was hitting the fan, so to speak.

JJ Ass was hugging part of the grand staircase, wondering where his prego wife had run off to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even seen her, so he assumed at this point she was just dead. It was cool, though; he wasn't ready to be a father anyway.

RIP, prego.

Suddenly, the glass dome apparatus that was the ceiling shattered! Oh no! Then all this water started rushing in! “It’s like… an Armageddon of elegance!” JJ exclaimed, while everyone around him panicked and screamed and shouted and died. Literally. But not JJ (well, he died, but not right at this second). JJ was still determined to enjoy the little things in life, and this armageddon of elegance was something he considered little.

_Then_ he died. Probably. Maybe. I’m assuming he died then.

RIP, JJ.

At the same time, water was rushing down one of the hallways and literally ripping doors off their hinges! Oh, water, you’re so strong! You’re making this ship your _bitch!_ Anyway, all this water was causing the ship to go higher and higher into the air!

Back towards the end of the boat, Jack was pulling Rose along (as always), but he decided to stop and take another peeksie over the railing. Nobody was sure what he was looking for, but either way he kept doing it. “Yup, still sinking,” he noted, watching as people began doing cannonballs and Olympic-class dives into the water.

It was nice to see that even in times of tragedy, people could still have fun.

“Come on, bitch,” he said, pulling Rose along some more.

Meanwhile, just a few feet away, Father Bobby Singer was performing a sermon for his people. He was standing in front of this… circle apparatus; I’m not quite sure what it’s for… I think it has something to do with… ropes? For when they dock? To… hold… on to? To… wrap around, maybe? Maybe it was just for decoration? IDK. I’m a _carpenter,_ not a ship builder.

“Alright, you idjits, listen up,” Bobby said, allowing his gathering to hold onto one of his hands. “Dear, um, God… please keep these idjits from drowning,” he prayed to my father, passing a salt shaker to one of his gatherers and instructing them to make a circle around where they were standing.

“Why, father?” one of the gatherers asked.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions!” Bobby exclaimed. Just then, the ship tilted a bit more and he almost lost his balance! “Balls!” Bobby groaned, steadying himself while thirty different people attempted to hold onto his outstretched hand. He sighed, then began his exorcism. “Exorcizamus te…” and so on and so forth. I was a little weak on my Latin.

Anyhoo.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

So then I was still pulling Rose along, just like I had been for the past hour or so, and we were _finally_ almost at the very back of the ship. I didn’t really have a plan, per se, but I was a survivor. I knew I had this in me. I figured, ehhhhh, we’ll get to the back of the ship… we’ll stay on the boat as long as possible and then, idk, I’ll just wing it. Like I said, I’m a survivor.

“Come on, you worthless ho,” I grumbled, pulling Rose harder.

“Ouch, my arm,” she said. “Stop pulling me so hard. You’re going to dislocate my shoulder.”

“You’re really something else,” I sighed, pulling her the last few feet. “Come on, come on!” I urged, putting my back into it and really dragging her until I was finally able to grab on to the railing.

A sigh of relief left my lungs.

She made an obnoxious sound, making it seem like she was exhausted even though I had been single handedly keeping her alive all this time.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, back at Church of Bobby, he finished up his exorcism but it didn’t seem to help the current situation they were in. The boat was still sinking and even more people had gathered around him and were fighting over the opportunity to hold onto his hand. It was starting to hurt. “Balls!” he exclaimed again.

Just then, the boat tilted a bit more and he almost lost his balance! So he reached behind him and grabbed onto the… circle thing type deal… while all of his followers held onto his poor hand even more. “BALLS!” 

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

So then I was hanging onto Jack.

The ship was at a pretty srs angle now and my arms were getting tired from holding myself up. “Could you just, like…” I trailed off, trying to convey to Jack that I wanted him to put me on his back so I wouldn’t have to stand anymore. I did this by gesturing wildly with my hands.

_“No,”_ he said, readjusting me in all the wrong places and refusing to put me on his back.

I sighed, looking over to my left and making direct eye contact with a poor woman. Poor as in poverty, not as in _Oh, dear, that poor woman!_ We were all pretty fucked at this point, so I wouldn’t waste my time feeling sorry for anybody except myself. Anyway, she was all by herself and she had a poverty child clinging tightly to her chest.

“It’ll be over soon… it’ll all be over soon,” she said, trying to soothe the child.

“You’re right--” I began, agreeing with her that the ship was almost completely sunk and they were sure to be dead soon, but I was quickly cut off when Highway To Hell started blasting through the speakers and the sound of a lifeboat being viciously rowed toward the boat was all I could hear.

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…” I heard Molly’s screeching getting closer. “WASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS…”

I rolled my eyes, hanging on to Jack a little tighter. I knew there was no stopping her until she had gotten the sentence out, so I decided to just wait it out this time. Suddenly the sky lit up with something that looked like a bat signal from Batman, but instead of it being bat wings it was just a big picture of her silhouetted in the sky.

“RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Nobody even stopped to acknowledge her, her music choice, or her Molly Call. Her MolCall. But shortly after her screaming stopped, the MolCall faded from the sky and AC/DC slowly faded out and it was back to screaming and panicking around. At this point I was completely bored with the mother and child next to me so I decided to look to my right instead.

Hanging there next to me (too close, if you ask me) was this blond chick only a little bit older than me. She seemed to be eyeing Jack and I suddenly got very territorial. Why was everyone coming for my man? First that Cora cunt, and now this cunt? No. That won’t do.

“Bet you wish you had a piece of this!” I said, reaching down and cupping Jack’s butt before giving it a pinch or two. “But _no,_ you don’t. You’re _all by yourself._ You’re gonna die alone, cunt! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I screamed in her face, tweaking one of Jack’s nipples before he stopped me and told me to focus on surviving.

Blond Cunty glared at me.

“I don’t have to save myself,” I said, hugging Jack’s waist tight. “I got a _man_ to do it for me.”

“You’re a complete cunt,” Blond Cunty said to me.

“Yes. Yes I am. A completely cunt _that has a man to save her._ Good luck holding onto that railing there with your frail little cunt arms.”

Cunt.

**~*~*~*~*Bobby’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

_Idjits._

“How about y’all let go of my hand now and go save yourselves?” I asked my people.

“Please! Help us! Save us!”

Ugg. Just another day in my damn life. Always cleaning up other people’s messes, always saving people just in the nick of time. All I wanted in life was to eat that damn peach cobbler, but _no._ Here I was, trying to save bitches on the Titanic. Ugh. The ship tilted a bit more and I readjusted my grip on the circley tubey thing.

_Balls._

**~*~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~***

Anyway, now that the blonde cunt was preoccupied with saving herself, or whatever it is that cunts do, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. This place looked… oddly familiar! It’s like… I had been here before! Suddenly got a flashback!

**~*~*~*~*Flashback to 3 nights ago~*~*~*~***

“Don’t do it!”

“DON’T PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT I WILL AND WILL NOT DO, YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW ME.”

Or something.

**~*~*~*Flashforward to present~*~*~**~**

“Jack!” I gasmed, shaking him a bit until he looked down at me. “Do you recognize this place?!?!?!?”

“Um… what? What place?”

“Here!” I said, gesturing down at the decks. “This place! This spot! These railings! This ship!”

“I don’t know what you’re fucking getting at,” Jack sighed, “but I guarantee that now is _not_ the time.”

Completely ignoring him, because that’s what I do, I proclaimed, “This is where we first met!!!!!!!11”

Jack sighed loudly. “I was ri--.... I was… accurate… with my previous statement,” he said, nervously glancing around, waiting to see the MolCall light up in the sky again. After about 14 minutes had passed, he deemed it safe and looked back at me. “Thanks. For, you know, reminding me that this is where we first met. I’m really glad that you decided to tell me that right now. It’s not like I’m trying to save your life, or hold onto this railing _and_ you, or figure out what we’re gonna do once we’re in the water, or decide how long I can survive in the water before I fucking _die._ No, no, no, it’s better that we talk about this. _Really_ glad I saved your life, pal. _Really glad._ It’s working out _swell_ for me.”

“Aw,” I cooed, pinching his cheek (his cheek cheek. Not his bum cheek). “I’m glad you agree with me.”

He mumbled something after that. It kind of sounded like _rich bitch_ but I wasn’t sure.

**~*~*~*~*Bobby’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I was starting to regret doing this job without Sam and Dean. I was going to feel like such a disappointment when I told them I wasn’t able to exorcise the demons out of this ship in time to save everyone.

Ideally, I could have said some Latin action and threw a cross into the ocean to make the whole ocean holy water, but all these bitches are holding on my hand, and my other hand is busy gripping onto the circular thing to _keep me alive._

So I guess I’ll just die. That’s cool. No happy ending for Bobby Singer. Not even cobbler.


	12. Part Twelve

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~**

You know what, the outside of the ship is getting boring. Let me take you on a tour of the innards.

One room was completely flooded, with a lady corpse in a nightgown drifting along. Hey, lady corpse.

Another room had _no water in it whatsoever_ (I guess it’s at the veeeeeery edge of the ship? Yet it’s only _just now_ beginning to tilt forward? Whatever). This room was just a giant wall of plates, and each stack of plates had its own little cubby. That’s cute. But the plates don’t make it out alive either, because as the ship tilted forward, the plates all crashed to the floor and broke into a million smithereens.

Oh, I guess that’s it for the innards.

So then one of the officers, who we’ll call Officer Bossy, heard the plates falling with his magic hearing abilities. “That’s it, then,” he said, turning to his passengers in the lifeboat. “I know I promised you all ringside seats at the sinking, but things are really serious now. The _plates_ have fallen. We need to get out of here. Bloody pull faster!” he yelled. “And pull!”

“Are you gonna give me a refund?” one of the passengers, Betting Betty, asked. “I wanted to see some gore. You know we all had a bet going about whether someone would fall over and hit one of those propellers.”

“There is no time for that!” Officer Bossy yelled. “Bloody pull faster! And pull! And pull! And pull!”

The ship, meanwhile, kept rising, and as people lost their grips they’d slide to their deaths. Like you do.

Back in the innards, the plates were _still falling_ (“BLOODY PULL FASTER!” Officer Bossy was now screaming).

A dresser slid forward and broke in two against a bed. The bed got sick of this shit and noped away.

On the deck, Trudy was holding hands with a man who I guess wasn’t attractive enough to get actual screentime. But we can see his gloves, so that’s something.

“Hang on, Miss Trudy!” he said.

Trudy looked at him. “Ehhhhhhhhhh. If my options are look in your face or plummet to my death, you know what, I’mma take the fall. Pc.” Then she let go. “Ahhhhhhhhh… oh my gah…” she mumbled, pretending to claw at the floorboards she was sliding down. “Noooooo…”

Up by the stern, people were putting 2 and 2 together and realizing they should climb over the railing. A man climbed over and then fell straight over the edge. It’s like he didn’t even try. I judge. (I’m allowed.)

“Ooh!” Betting Betty exclaimed, opening her ledger. “That’s number 30! Who bet we’d have 30 belly flops in three minutes?”

“I did!” said another lifeboat passenger, Gambling Gabe.

“Gabe, Nancy owes you $3.”

“W00t!”

Back on the stern, Baker Joughin was climbing over the rail more carefully. He was drunk, but he wasn’t careless, unlike some people.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” a man shouted, falling off the rail and hitting the propeller, which caused him to spin in circles all the way down.

“YES!” cheered half the passengers of the lifeboat nearby, while the other half groaned. Betting Betty opened her ledger to read out who owed what.

“Ouch,” Baker Joughin winced, looking down at the man who had fallen to his watery death. “You know what, I can swing this one-handed. Time for a drink!” Holding one hand onto the rail, he reached into his chef’s coat and pulled out his flask. Then he pulled out his cocktail shaker. Using the tips of his toes to balance carefully on the rail, he released his hands and quickly poured some gin into the shaker, and then added some ice and vermouth. He shook it for a few minutes, poured it into his martini glass, and garnished it with an olive. Then he knocked it back and put everything back in his pocket.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

Is Rose a goddamn newborn baby? Why has she even lost the ability to _maintain a grip?_

“Hold on real tight, you idiot!” I said, clasping my hands over hers because she was failing at _grabbing a rail._

**~*~*~*~*Ruth’s POV*~*~*~*~**

I sat in the lifeboat next to Molly Brown. I had to fart, but I wasn’t sure how to do it without attracting any attention. I was waiting for the perfect moment.

Then a few people fell off the ship at once, screaming on the way down. Keeping my eyes straight ahead, acting like I was entranced by the sinking ship disaster action, I let out a long fart, timed perfectly with the fallers’ screams.

Ahhhhhhhh.

I kept staring ahead for a few minutes longer, playing it casual. No one will ever know.

“God almighty,” Molly said. “Who cut the cheese?”

Ah, shit.

**~*~*~*~*Bruce Ismay’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Slowly, I turned away from the sinking ship. A terrible fart was coming downwind and it was not helping matters.

But, like, all this death was kind of depressing. It makes me feel a little guilty for being sort of responsible for it. But of course it’s not really my fault. Damn that Andrews!

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, down in Luigi’s Engine Room, Luigi and all the other engineers were being BADASSES. It seems RIDICULOUS that the ship had electricity even when it was almost vertical and halfway underwater, but IT DID because of THEM.

Dad bless them.

“Keep those breakers in! Keep them in!” Luigi shouted, clinging to a pipe for balance. The engineers all scurried to… keep those… breakers in (idk). “This is my turf and you will listen to me, Yoshi! We’re not on your island anymore! Use the grip from your red sneaks to reach the breakers!”

One of the breakers was… breaking… when Yoshi lunged forward to… keep it in. Except with the whole ship sinking thing, water was leaking about, and when Yoshi went to touch the breaker, it burst into a shower of sparks, combining with a spray of water to electrocute him for good.

RIP, Yoshi.

“You are the SuperStar by default!” Koopa congratulated Luigi. But then Koopa slipped and he and Luigi went tumbling forward into the electricity. RIP, guys.

And at this point, the electricity shorted out for good. RIP, electricity.

Right after this happened, Titanic decided it was _done_ with being in one piece. It started making all these scary, ominous loud bangs, and then the floorboards on the deck started splintering off.

“Oh gah,” said Lovejoy, who realized he was standing right on the divide. “Oh gah! Which half to pick?”

“Which half do you think he’ll pick?” Betting Betty asked, looking at Lovejoy with her binoculars.

“I’ve got a dollar that he’ll pick the left one,” Gabe said. A few others chimed in with their bets and Betty wrote them down furiously.

Lovejoy picked the stern half, aka the left one. Hahahahaha, gravity isn’t going to be very kind to you. Sucks to suck, bro. Gambling Gabe cheered at his victory.

As the ship continued to split in two, people fell into the canyon below. That has to sting.

Then the stern fell back toward the ocean. “Ahhhhhhh!” the people on the stern screamed in unison. If James Cameron were writing this, he might have written that the sound went up like the roar of fans at a baseball stadium when a run is scored. But that’s a weird fucking analogy. Thank god I’m the one writing this.

Anyway, the people who should really have been screaming were the people swimming under the stern, because it hit them with the force of a trillion pounds (give or take). RIP, swimmers.

And here’s where the action happens. The bow began pulling the stern down as it sank (everyone remembers Fatty’s explanation in the beginning, right? I don’t have to explain it?), so the stern began rising up, turning vertical. As it did that, more people began sliding down the stern, knocking into various things on the way down. Including the circle thing. If only there were a word for that.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~**

I mentally put 2 and 2 together as I saw everyone lose their grip on the rails and slide down the stern.

“We have to move!” I said. I climbed onto the pole near me like a monkey. Which was kind of dangerous, since the pole could have easily snapped in two at my weight… but then again I don’t weigh a lot, being malnourished and all. “Give me your hand, I’ll pull you over. Because I know you won’t climb over it yourself,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“I can’t,” Rose whined. “I’m tiiiiiiiiiired.”

This bitch.

“COME ON. Give me your worthless hand.” Rose put her hand in mine and started the long ordeal of flopping herself over the rail. “You’re lucky I’m holding on to you, or you’d have fallen over a _long_ time ago. Come on, bitch. I won’t let go. And I hate myself for that.”

Rose made a thousand fugly faces as she rolled over the rail. “Ugggggggggg,” she groaned.

“Come on, bitch, I’ve got you.” I single-handedly pulled her over the rail and then kept her there by positioning my body behind her. We were in perfect position for sex, but I was too pist at her worthlessness to get an erection.

“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she whined. Yes, it’s so hard to BE SUPPORTED. “What’s happening, Jack?” she asked as the ship got completely vertical.

“Oh, let me check my ship architecture manual real quick--wait, never mind, I DON’T HAVE ONE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING. But I’ll venture a _guess_ and say that _we’re going down.”_ That’s probably not how Mr. Andrews would explain it, but Mr. Andrews never had to put up with Rose’s shit for this long.

When the ship stopped moving forward because it was as vertical as it could get, there was a brief lull. I looked behind me to check that the propellers were still there. They were.

Of course, Rose took that moment to get all loosey-goosey with her grip on the rails because I wasn’t holding on to her. “Oh my god, hold on! What makes you think you can let go?”

“Jack! I chipped a nail! Do you have a nail file on you?”

If I murder her tonight, no one would notice, right? I’m pretty sure I’d get away with it.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Content with my front-row seat on the rail, and knowing Jack was doing all the work by holding on for the both of us, I interlaced my fingers and cracked my knuckles, stretching out a little to watch the spectacle before me.

More and more people were falling to their deaths. My gaze wandered over to Cunty. She was panicking and hyperventilating. Then she made eye contact with me. “Help me,” she pleaded.

Whistling to myself, I moved my foot forward and pressed my heel against her knuckle.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed, letting go and falling to her death.

Ha.

I laughed, and then I looked to the right of me. Baker Joughin was giving me kind of a judgy look.

“What? _I slipped,”_ I said testily. He kept looking at me, so I bucked at him. He shook his head and held up a hand in surrender.

Damn straight.

Anyway, then the ship started making an obnoxious sound and slowly we started sinking again! Damn, I thought we were just going to wait here until rescue arrived. Who knew _this_ part of the ship was going to go down, too!

Damn you, gravity!

Thankfully my big-ass ears let me know everything that was going on around me! The ship was a very gassy lad and was farting as water was filling it up, causing water to go spray out of all of its holes. Maybe it should have laid off those beans.

“This is it!” Jack screamed in one of my big ass ears, and then--for some reason--he mounted me. Was he… trying to have sex with me? In front of all these people? Here, this night? Like this? Didn’t he have any modesty? We were in a life or death situation!!!

…Or at least that’s what he’s been screaming at me about for the last fourteen hours.

“Honestly, Jack,” I sighed. “Now is not the time for the sex. I have a headache and I’m really tired.” I had to speak up a bit, though, because down below the ship was still farting into the water. Thankfully we were down wind. Or… up… wind. I’m not sure how wind worked up here.

**~*~*~*~*Ruth’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Teeheehee, that wasn’t the _ship_ breaking wind.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

Rose had just said some ignorant shit to me about trying to have sex with her. I wasn’t mounting her _for sex,_ I was mounting her _to keep her ALIVE._ “You’re completely worthless!” I groaned, pulling her a hair a bit since I was in that position.

“Pardon me?”

“I said, I love this dress on you.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Rose chuckled, raising her nose in the air. What the hell did I ever see in this bitch? Anyway, what was left of the boat was slowly sinking into the water. Everyone around us was panicking, but I was actually… pretty calm, all things considered. I was a _survivor._ And Rose was on my last nerve, so knowing that I always had the option of just drowning wasn’t really all that bad.

Win, win.

Anyway, someone near us yelled at the top of his lungs, “HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and I really wish he hadn’t, because apparently that reminded Rose of the situation we were in and then _she_ started panicking.

“Oh no, Jack! Oh god! Oh… OH GOD!” she yelled, shaking beneath me.

“What? Stop that,” I said, flicking the back of her neck. “You’ve been totally fine this whole time. Now is _not_ the time to start panicking!”

“I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO SWIM, JACK,” she said, looking up at me with a stupid expression on her face. “I paid people to swim for me! I’ve never _actually_ swam anywhere in my life! What do I do? Can you teach me how to swim real quick?”

“Can I--NO! I’ll do all the swimming!”

“WHAT DO I DO, JACK?!?!?!?!?”

I sighed loudly. “Alright. Alright… listen up. Do you have a pen? You might want to write this down.”

“Oh.” She nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pen she had been using to keep score with Cal. “Boom! Alright, what am I writing?” she asked, pulling out the notebook as well and flipping to a blank page. I watched over her shoulder as she began writing at the very top of the page.

_Tips for Survival  
Presented by: Jack Dawson _

I… wasn’t being serious when I told her to write this down… but… alright. “Hold on!” I exclaimed, gripping her and the railing tighter when the boat began leaning a bit to the side. She elbowed me right in the ribs and I was confused for a second before I realized that was just her writing. What the…

**1.** _Hold on._

UGH. WHAT A DUMB BITCH.

“That… wasn’t step one. I was literally telling you to hold on.”

“Oh…” Rose trailed off, casually scratching it out.

~~**1.** _Hold on._~~

“Well now you’ve ruined it,” I sighed. “Start over.”

“Nah, this is fine.”

“But you fucked up on the first step.”

“Yeah, but I crossed it out.”

“Yeah… so you _start a new one._ You don’t just _leave_ it fucked up!”

“JACK?! WHICH ONE OF US WENT TO SCHOOL?!” Rose screamed.

I sighed. “You did.”

“Exactly. Alright. What’s step one?” she asked, looking up at me with a cunty look. Thankfully this boat was sinking very slowly or else we would have already been in the water. But we were not.

“Alright, the ship is going to suck us down--”

“Why?” she asked, rudely cutting me off.

I blinked at her. “Um… because… gravity? Suction? Water… pressure? ROSE? WHICH ONE OF US WENT TO SCHOOL?”

“Tehehehehe, I DID!” She grinned, going back to taking her notes.

“Anyway. Take a deep breath when I say… why aren’t you writing?”

“Oh, I didn’t know if that was a tip? Or if you were just giving me instructions again, like before. Remember? A few minutes ago? When you said ‘Hold on!’ and I thought you were talking about the list so I wrote it down but then had to scratch it out?”

“Considering that literally just happened, yeah, I remember it.”

“So I was supposed to be taking notes?”

“Bitch! Write everything that I say!”

“Hold on! Now I’m behind! Start over!”

“Oh my fucking god,” I said, saying a quick prayer that the Lord would just kill me now.

**~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~***

Nope. Not yet, my son.

My… brother?

My brother.

I think.

…

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~*~***

“These aren’t really tips, Jack!” Rose said, distracting me from watching the water rise. “These are more of _instructions._ A How To, kind of. I labeled it wrong. Hold on,” she said, scratching out more of her paper.

“Oh my fucking christ,” I said, watching as she just kept fucking up the paper. “Please start a new one! Please! This looks terrible!”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” she said, showing me the notebook.

~~_Tips for Survival_~~ Instructions/How To:/General Notes  
Presented by: Jack Dawson  
 ~~ **1.** _Hold on_~~  
 **1.** _Ship will suck us down (Because suction????)_  
 **2.** _Take deep breath when Jack says_  
 **3.** _Bitch write everything that I say_

“THIS IS THE UGLIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE,” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in frustration. How was it that out of the two of us, she was far more educated than I was, yet she couldn’t construct a simple list? If I knew all my letters, I would just write the damn thing myself.

But I don’t.

So I won’t.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” I sighed, dismounting her and taking up my previous position next to her. I watched as the ship farted a bit more and water shot out onto the people that were floating around the ship. I wonder if they knew about the suction? Maybe I should speak up a bit. I cleared my throat and projected my voice when I continued, _“KICK FOR THE SURFACE AND KEEP. KICKING.”_

I looked over as Rose furiously scribbled.

“DO. NOT. LET. GO. OF. MY. HAND. Do you understand me? Did you get that? Do you need me to repeat it?”

“No, no, I got it!” she said, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated on writing. I watched as everyone below us started drowning, the water just eating everybody up. Man, shit is getting _real._

“We’re gonna make it Rose!” I exclaimed, then remembered I was supposed to be projecting my voice. I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “We’re gonna make it everybody!!!! Everything is fine!!! Rose is taking the notes!!!! Trust me!!!” Then I went back to holding on to the railing/Rose.

“I trust you!” she said.

Oh, I wasn’t really talking to her. I knew she trusted me. I mean, I was keeping her alive after all. The water continued to rise and everything was getting super intense! We only had about ten more feet of boat before we would be in the water. Oh gah. “Ready?!” I yelled, and she nodded. “Okay… let me see your notes.”

~~_Tips for Survival_~~ Instructions/How To:/General Notes  
Presented by: Jack Dawson  
 ~~ **1.** _Hold on_~~  
 **1.** _Ship will suck us down (Because suction????)_  
 **2.** _Take deep breath when Jack says_  
 **3.** _Bitch write everything that I say_  
 **4.** _Kick for the surface. KEEP KICKING._  
 **5.** _DO NOT LET GO OF HIS HAND!!!!!!!!!!!!_  
 **6.** _WE’RE GONNA MAKE IT!!! (ehhhhhhh…)_  
 **7.** _Everything is fine! Rose is taking no--oh, that’s me.. Disregard._  
 **8.** _Trust him_

“Your formatting is shit, but, it’ll have to do for now.”

“Well,” she huffed. “You’re being very rude. You don’t know me and I don’t know you and we’re not having this conversation at all!”

I glared at her.

The water was now splashing in our faces and getting us both wet, and not in a good way. Alright. It was now or never, bitches; this was my time to shine. I was a fucking survivor and I was ready to survive. Just like Gloria Gaynor said: _Did you think I’d just lay down and die? No, not I, I will survive._

Because I’m a fucking _survivor._

Put me on an island for a reality show and I would be the _survivor._

I could be featured on that show, I SURVIVED!, which I had never actually watched because I was always offended by the fact the title was in all caps and had an exclamation mark at the end. It was kind of pretentious of them. There I was, flipping through my TV guide when suddenly I SURVIVED! was all up in my business screaming at me.

Well, not _my_ TV guide.

The library’s TV guide.

Oh, right, the sinking.

“NOW!!!!!” I screamed.

“WHAT?! NOW WHAT? WHAT NOW? JACK?”

“TAKE A BREATH!!!” I screamed at the last second and thankfully, for once in her life, Rose listened and took the largest breath she possibly could. And then… well, then we were under water. We were both pulled down, but the people around us could just casually step off into the water.

Hmm.

Anyway, so we were pulled under water, just like I said we would be because I know things (re: survivor) and of course Rose wasn’t doing a _fucking thing_ to help us. She wasn’t lying when she said she couldn’t swim; literally all she was doing was flailing her limbs about and wasting what breath she held in her lungs. What a _stupid_ bitch.

If JCam were writing this scene, he might say the stern was descending into the boiling sea. But I’m not sure he had all of his facts straight? Considering IT WAS FUCKING FREEZING and the reason we were SINKING IN THE FIRST PLACE was because of a GODDAMN ICEBERG. So _boiling_ would be _the last_ adjective _I_ would have ever used in this situation.

But.

_Whatever._ That’s why he’s not telling this story.

Not that I, Jack Dawson, am, either. But. Whatev. You get the gist. I’ll make sure to tell Rose this once we get to the surface. Oh! The surface! Right! So I grabbed Rose by her lifebelt (which was doing _nothing,_ might I add) and I shook her up a bit. If the whole sinking bit and cold water hadn’t confused her, I wanted to make sure my shaking did. So I just kept shaking her.

But then, for some reason, I let go.

I ain’t quite sure why I did that.

There was a whooshing sound, which leads me to believe it had something to do with the suction? But since Rose and I had never officially decided on _why_ the Titanic was going to pull us down, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I let go of her.

Oops.

Well, she’s clearly gonna die now.

She’s _not_ a survivor.

She would lay down to die, Gloria.

Gah, I was starting to run out of breath. Damn my smoker lungs! Anyway, then I disappeared off into the night.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Where did Jack go?

I’m sure he’ll be back in just a second. I’ll just keep stretching out my arm and wiggling my fingers all around. I stretched and wiggled and stretched and wiggled, but I didn’t feel a thing. Maybe I should open my eyes.

Oh. He ain’t there.

Well, it’s a good thing I wrote down his instructions. Still holding my breath, I pulled out my notebook. The paper was falling apart, but I could just barely make out what it said.

**1.** _Ship will suck us down (Because suction????)_

Check!

**2.** _Take deep breath when Jack says_

Check!

**3.** _Bitch write everything that I say_

Check!

**4.** _Kick for the surface. KEEP KICKING._

Oh! That must be what I’m supposed to do now. I started kicking--but then my eyes flitted over the next step:

**5.** _DO NOT LET GO OF HIS HAND!!!!!!!!!!!!_

But… he let go of my hand after step 2! What am I supposed to do? These instructions are conflicting with each other!

I guess I’ll just kick for the surface and keep kicking, then. So I kicked and kicked, and then I found myself at the surface! Yay!

“Check,” I said to myself, crossing it off on the soggy paper. But that just made the paper tear in half. Oh well. I guess I don’t need to learn anything else today.

I took in a deep breath of air. There were bitches all around me! And I had no way of knowing who was rich and who was poor! Oh, this is just awful. “Jack! I screamed. “JACK! TELL ME WHAT TO DO NOW! Jack! JACK!” Oh gah… all these unwashed people were just stewing in this ocean. It’s like we’re having a big old bath together. _Ew._  
“SAVE ME, JACK!” I screeched. I could have swum around looking for him, but I thought it best to stay put. He could follow my screeches.

I did some kicking with my legs, just to keep active, and ended up moving around a little. Is this what swimming is? I must have mastered it already. I’m so talented! I have a gift!

“Jack!” I yelled.

Then a man came along and looked me up and down (well, as “down” as he could see, which was my neck. But, I mean, it’s a sexxi neck). “How much for a quickie?” he asked. When I didn’t respond right away, he took that as a good sign and shoved me underwater.

Once underwater, I found myself staring directly at his crotch. Did this bitch think I was a _whore?_ Indignant, I kicked up to the surface. “Hey! I’d rather be Cal’s wife than your whore! And I’d rather be Jack’s whore than Cal’s wife!”

“Idk what that means. Down you go.” He pushed me back down again, and once more I found myself underwater, staring at his pants.

Well…

I am poor now…

I kicked back up to the surface. “How much are we talking?”

He shrugged. “Name a price.”

Ooh. “Well…”

“Think about it during foreplay,” he said, shoving me down again.

I don’t think I like this. Again I kicked to the surface. “No! We name a price and then I do the deed! I don’t negotiate this way. Don’t make me call backup, because I’ll do it! Jack! JACK!”

“Rose!”

I looked around and spotted Jack, swimming towards me. Oh. I was just bluffing, but… alright.

“Get off her!” he yelled. “Get off her!”

“Uhhhhhhhhh uhhhhhhh uhhhh uhh!” the man grunted. Was he coming already? Just from me making eye contact with his penis? Damn, I’m good.

Jack punched him twice, from two different camera angles, which was kind of weird. I watched the man drift off in another direction. Well, he could have been a good source of income, but alright, thanks, Jack, I guess.

“Rose!” Jack said.

“Jack! It wasn’t what it looked like! It was just going to be a business transaction.”

“I need you to swim, Rose! I need you to swim!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Can we not? Your instructions were kind of terrible and I just ain’t feeling it. Can you just grab onto my lifebelt and drag me along?”

Jack just looked at me. “You’re kidding.”

“No…?”

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~*~**

OH MY GOD.

What did I ever see in this bitch?

I rolled my eyes, gave a deep sigh, and grabbed onto her lifebelt, swimming _one-handed_ so I could pull this worthless bitch along. “Keep swimming!” I shouted, speaking to myself. “Don’t drown her! Not now.”

“It’s so colllllllllld,” Rose whined. “Do you still have that blanket? It was gross, but… idk. I think I’d slum to it.”

“You have your lifebelt and your boobs to keep you warm,” I said, trying to remain calm, but I could feel my grip on her lifebelt tightening in anger. “Try to consider how those of us without _either_ might feel.”

She paused, considering it. “I can’t imagine anyone possibly feeling any colder than I do.”

I held my tongue.

I dragged her worthless body over to the piece of wood I’d scored. I know there were hundreds of people all around us, but the crazy thing is that no one thought to swim ten feet to the right. There was absolutely no one around! I checked on the piece of wood. Yep, no one had gotten to it whatsoever. My sign was doing a good job of keeping people away.

_HI THERE!_

_Thanks for your interest in my piece of wood! But it belongs to me, Jack Dawson, of Chippewa Falls. Please leave this wood be._

_Thanks! :)_

_Jack_

Yeah, people got the message.

“Here, Rose,” I said, guiding her over to the wood. “Get on it. Now, here’s the plan. You get on, and move over to _one side_. At that point, I’ll get on the _other_ side, and then it’s just a simple matter of balance.”

I gave Rose a boost, and then she moved forward, inch by inch, onto the wood, groaning and grumbling all the while. “Is this really the best you can do?” she asked. “Maybe there’s a spare lifeboat we can swim to, maybe one with a coffee machine and indoor plumbing, some heating, maybe a few minions to meet my needs, and just a few suites just to tide us over.”

“You are literally describing the Titanic. You are describing the ship that _just sank_ five minutes ago. This is your only goddamn option, bitch. This is your new Titanic.”

“I must be in the steerage section, then,” she grumbled. I rolled my eyes and watched her scoot more onto the wood. “Alright, I’m ready. You can climb aboard now.”

I looked at her. She was lying right in the middle of the wood. “That’s not what I asked you to do, but… whatever. I guess I’ll just claim this little corner here.” I swam up to it and tried to get on top of it, but the wood began to capsize.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Rose screamed, falling into the water. “You monster! Why would you do that?”

I sighed. “Let’s try this again,” I said through gritted teeth. “Get back on, and remember to _stick to one side.”_

She looked at me expectantly. “So… you gonna give me a boost?”

I clenched my jaw and gave her a goddamn boost.

And then she crawled straight to the middle of the wood again, spreading her arms and legs out to the sides like she was just _done._

A million ways to murder her ran through my mind. But I was too pist to do any of them.

“Well…” I said. “I guess I’ll just float right here in the water... with a thousand knives stabbing me all over…”

During the long, awkward silence that followed, I took a peeksie over at her, expecting her to say something like _No, Jack, I’ll make room for you!_ or, at the very fucking least, _Are you sure, Jack?_

But no, she was humming to herself, looking all around and avoiding my gaze.

Fuck.

This.

Cunt.

Fine, whatever. If I die out here, then bring it on. I know I’d just die of high blood pressure if I have to spend another day with this self-absorbed cunt.

Resolved to my fate, I swam around to the edge of the wood/door type deal. “It’ll be alright now,” I said. “It’ll be alright now. For you, anyway.”

Nearby, Officer Wilde was blowing his whistle. “Get on… the boats!” he shouted.

“See, Jack, I knew there were still lifeboats!”

“If you want to swim over to him, _be my guest.”_

“Oh. You wouldn’t… help me?”

“No. I would not.”

“Oh… well, that’s fine. I’ll stay here.”

“Lucky me.”

“So now what happens?”

I noticed that a few nearby swimmers were looking to me for answers. I guess I’ll play the Mr. Andrews role one more time. “The boats are coming back for us, Rose,” I said, making sure to enunciate, and checking toward the back to make sure everyone was hearing me. “Hold on if you feel like letting go, like GC sang earlier. They--they had to row away for the suction, but… now they’ll be coming back.” I thought I remembered seeing this protocol in one of Cappy’s Wiggles notebooks, but I could be wrong. I was so cold, it was getting hard to think or talk. Damn those knives.

I noticed Rose wasn’t paying attention anymore. I followed her gaze to a woman behind me.

“Help us, for God’s sake!” the woman shouted.

“Please!” a man next to her called. “Help us!”

I looked over at Rose and saw that she was feeling along the edges of the door with her hands. “I don’t suppose you have any noise-canceling headphones in a compartment in this thing?”

“A compartment? You… you understand that this isn’t meant to be a raft, right?”

“Or earplugs, maybe?”

“...There are no accommodations.”

“Are you speaking Poor? I don’t understand you.”

“Sorry. I’ll just speak in English.”

“Thanks.”

**~*~*~*~*~Molly’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

I tried to stay quiet, really, I did. I didn’t like to barge into other people’s conversations or their lives at all! But there was only _so much_ one woman can take, ya feel me? Somebody, I hadn’t quite figured out _who,_ was farting all over the place in my lifeboat and it was just getting to be too much.

“I say we go back!” I declared, standing up to try to get to fresher air. “I’d rather be out there with them... than be in here with whoever is farting.”

Ruth, who was sitting next me, cleared her throat.

“You don’t understand,” minion Hitchins sighed, shaking his head at me. “If we go back they’ll swamp the boat! They’ll pull us right down, I’m tellin’ ya!” he continued, getting angrier and angrier as the words were leaving his ugly mouth. “Is that really what you want, eh?! To be _swamped?”_

I glared at him. “Do you have a sense of smell?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Sonny, it’s not a hard question! Do you have a sense of smell?”

“Yes…”

“THEN HOW ARE YOU NOT DYING?! JESUS!” I exclaimed, placing my hands on my hips. “It smells like the inner workings of a raccoon's ass in here!” Just then, Ruth coughed again and I turned to look at her. “Poor thing,” I cooed, whipping out my little package of tissues from my pocket. “You must be getting ill.”

“Yes…” Ruth trailed off, taking the package of tissues from me and looking away in shame.

“We _can’t_ go back!” Hitchins said. “I don’t care _how_ bad it smells! It’s better than being out there! Listen to them, eh? They’re _literally_ freezing to death. Right now. Oh, one just died. Oops, there goes another. WANNA KNOW WHY? BECAUSE THEY’RE FREEZING.”

“KNOCK IT OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed, pistol whipping him with his own pistol before he even knew what was happening. He held a hand up to his whipped cheek, an outraged expression on his face. “You’re scaring me.” I shrugged, twirling the pistol around in my grip and offering it back to him, grip side facing him.

I was such a catch.

“Come on, girls!” I said, turning back to face everyone in the boat. “I’m going to show everyone how I just did that.” I rolled up my sleeves, ready to show them how to disarm somebody and whip them afterwards.

But… nobody stood up.

“The fuck?” I asked, looking around at everyone’s faces. “Don’t be like that. Every girl needs to know how to defend herself. Didn’t you see what I just did? Hitchins over there was getting sassy, so I had to shut him down. If I hadn’t, he’d still be walking over me like I was nothing. This is called _feminism,_ girls.”

I looked from face to face, but nobody seemed willing to stand up and participate in my demonstration! Maybe it was the gun that was scaring them off?

“The gun?” I asked. “Is that it? You’re afraid it might accidentally go off?” I asked, looking around for confirmation. Slowly, one of the blond girls in the back nodded. “NOT TO WORRY, DARLIN’!” I exclaimed, cackling for a moment. "Pistol whipping was only part one of the demonstration I was going to give, anyway!" I laughed. "I'll skip to the next part. Com’ere, Hitchens, lemme punch you in the balls.”

“‘RE YOU OUT ‘AH YOUR MIND?” Hitchins exclaimed, in his really strange accent that apparently prohibited him from saying words correctly. “We’re in a middle of th’ North Atlantic! You can't punch me in th’ beans!” he screamed, getting angrier as his words got shorter.

He sure was a feisty fella.

“Come on, Hitch. Take one for the team,” I said, cracking my neck from one side to the other, preparing myself to punch him in the balls. “These ladies need to know how to defend themselves! Especially now that their husbands are dead! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” I cackled. Man, life was grand.

“Do ‘ou not un’nastand what’s happenin?!” Hitch yelled, looking at the group behind me. “We’re in a bloody life or death situation and this bitch wants t’ give _a self defense_ class?!” He glared at them all and I glared right back at him. He was about to get pistol whipped again. “DO YOU PEOPLE WANT TO LIVE _OR DO YOU WANT TO DIE?!?!?!?!”_ he screamed, and… I had to give it to him. That was core.

Silence washed over the lifeboat. I turned around and looked at everybody, judging their reactions to Hitchins’ core statement. He was being dramatic, but his statement seemed to scare everybody into fabbing to him.

“I… I don’t understand a one of ya,” I said, deflated and frankly disappointed by my lifeboat team. “What’s the matter with ya? That’s your men out there! Don’t you get it? They’re _dead._ You have to take care of yourself now. You’re gonna have to file your own taxes and barter with the car salesman yourself! When you go get your oil changed and they try to sell you on all their extra services, _you’ll_ have to be the one who says _No thank you!”_ I exclaimed, looking specifically at one lady who looked fabbier than the rest of them.

“When someone knocks on your door late at night, _you_ have to answer it. What if that person tries to overtake you, hmm? Don’t you think knowing how to disarm a gunman would come in handy, hmm?” I continued. I made eye contact with everybody individually, making sure that they knew I was talking _to them._

I looked at Ruth., “I _know ___you can’t function in this world, sweetheart. Love ya, but seriously. You need to learn how to defend yourself! Rose may have been worthless, but at least she was quick on her feet! Or… _was_ quick on her feet… maybe I shouldn’t be talking about your probably-dead daughter to you yet, eh?” I chuckled, watching as Ruth’s face squinted up for a second and I thought she was about to burst into tears… but… then she looked kind of relieved?

Was she… did she just fart?

Was she the culprit?

No way… not my Ruth.

No.

It must have been my imagination.

I finally turned back around to Hitchins. “Now. For the sake of demonstration, let me punch you in the balls.”

“Fuck off,” he said, waving his hand at me.

“Come on.” I rolled my eyes, gesturing for him to come closer. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Fuck _off!”_ he said, glaring at me and moving his hands in front of his crotch.

“I think it’ll be good,” I said, ignoring his protest. “I think we just need to get the ball rolling--HEYYYY OHH!!!!! DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE?!?!?!?!?!” I cackled loudly, slapping my knee as I looked at the group behind me. The blond woman in the back was stifling a chuckle, while everyone else stared straight ahead of them. Ruth, at this point, must not be feeling well because she was leaned to one side, one of her buttcheeks lifted off the bench. I heard a funny sound before she slowly sat back down on the bench correctly.

Poor gal.

“Hitchens. Your time is up. Let’s have at ‘em,” I said, gesturing towards his balls again. “Everybody wants to see this. Look at them all,” I said, nodding over my shoulder. “Literally every single person on this boat wants this to happen.”

“They’ll be one less person on this boat if you don’t _SHUT THAT HOLE IN YOUR FACE.”_

I blinked at him. Did he… just get sassy with me?

No.

No.

So then, quick as a gazelle, I lunged forward, windmilling my arm around and around and then _BOOM!!!!!!_

I punched him square in the balls.

**~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~**~*~**

Meanwhile, a couple of miles away, lifeboats 10, 12 and Collapsible D were all gathering together and touching noses. Boat noses. Idk, they were all very close together and getting even closer. Commander Lowe (everyone in charge had died, okay? He had appointed himself commander, but fully expected it to be made official once they reached land) had had enough of listening to people die, and being that he was the only _caring_ individual left on this fucking planet, apparently, he was leading the rescue mission.

“Now bring in your oars over there!” he said, or… something.

The minions brought in their oars.

Or… something. He tended to roll his R’s and that made his speech unclear sometimes.

“Now tie these two boats together as well!” Lowe continued, shining his flashlight on different parts of the boat and watching as his minions did as he said.

“Now make sure that’s tied up nice and tight!” the commander declared, watching as everyone scurried to fulfill his wishes. “ _Real_ tight!” he continued, inspecting the ropes by pulling on each one until he was satisfied that they were as tight as could be. “Like a virgin.” He nodded. “RRRRIGHT! Listen to me, men! This is your commander speaking! I want to transfer all the rich bitches from this boat, into _that_ boat rrrrrright now! As quick as you can, please!” he ordered, rolling all of his R’s but making sure to add _please_ at the end, because this power wasn’t going to get to his head.

If only Lowe and Tommy could have led a group together.

Man. That would have been perfection.

_Thanks,_ Murdoch.

RIP. (To both of y’all.)

Anyway. “Let’s get some space in them! Forward and aft!” he said, or… something.

Meanwhile, back where the ship had sunk, Officer Wilde was dead. (Hence, Commander Lowe.)

RIP, Off Wi.

He died with his whistle in his mouth and had used his last breath of life to give one more pathetic little chirp on that whistle. Pay attention to this whistle, because it’s going to come in handy soon.

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV~*~*~**~**

I stared at Office Wilde’s dead body and eyed his whistle. I… really wanted that whistle. It looked to be of good quality and I knew that it had the perfect pitch, since he had been blowing that whistle non-stop for the last 33 minutes. But… it was so far and I was half dead at this point.

My legs, well, I’m pretty sure they were gone.

RIP, legs.

So without my legs, I had no choice but to keep holding onto this door. Rose was on her belly, all up in my space, leaning her heavy chin on one of my arms and was breathing her onion-smelling breath all over me. When did she eat onions? Anyway, I guess it wasn’t enough that she was literally taking up _all_ of this _huge door_ **and** one of my arms,  and causing me to lose my legs to the cold water; she had to take up all of my _personal_ space as well.

Couldn’t I just die in peace?

She was really going to fuck me over until the very end.

“Can you just… scoot back a little? You’re just, you know, kind of crowding me,” I said, shivering a bit. One of the icicles hanging from my hair was tickling my ear, but considering Rose had stolen my left arm and my right arm was clutching onto the door for dear life (LITERALLY), I had no choice but to just deal with the itchiness.

“It’s getting quiet,” Rose whispered, completely ignoring my request.

_What a cunt._

I tried to shimmy my arm out from her grip, but that only seemed to anger her. “Stop moving, _God,”_ she groaned, readjusting her chin on my arm. I frowned, realizing that I only had one arm left in this world.

RIP, legs.

RIP, left arm.

RIP, _dignity._

“It’s ju-just gonna ta-take…” I struggled to get my words out. My stuttering may have sounded like it was coming from the cold, which it may be considering I was ¾ frozen now, but really I was struggling to speak because I _hated_ this bitch. And honestly, I found it hard to keep up appearances now. “A sec-second to get the boats organized,” I continued with my lie, then before I could stop myself I muttered under my breath, “ _selfish cunt.”_ But I masked it with a groaning sound, like I was trying to catch my breath in the cold water. “Ughhhh ioasfijfff.”

“What was that?” Rose asked. “That part at the end.”

“I said, I don’t know about you but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this.”

“You… know how to write?” Rose asked, grinding her chin down into my arm so hard I _wished_ it would fall off.

I counted to three, willing myself not to kill her, before I finally answered. “Yes.”

“What will it say?” she asked, blowing her nose on my sleeve.

_Are you fucking serious?_

“It’ll say…” I trailed off, thinking of how I would word it. My brain was too cold to think it through, so I mumbled out the first thing that came to my mind. “Thanks for _literally_ nothing, you sons of bitches.”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t sound like much of a letter. You didn’t even have a salutation at the beginning, or a complimentary close at the end. Seriously, Jack, your uneducatedness is showing.”

“Are you… _are you fucking serious?”_ I gawked at her. “I’m _literally_ dying right now. Literally. I have about twelve minutes of life left in me and this is what you want to talk about?”

“I’m just saying,” she sighed. “There’s a proper way to write a letter, Jack. What you just said was _not_ the proper way to write a letter. Try again.”

“Fuck you,” I said, rolling my eyes and turning my head away from her.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed by before she cleared her throat. “I’m waiting.”

I shrugged, refusing to discuss this matter any further. “Keep waiting, then.” 

Another few minutes passed before she sighed loudly. “Do you want to play a game to pass the time?”

“Absolutely not,” I mumbled, glaring off into the sea, looking at all the valuables I would steal if I had my legs and my left arm. There was a deck chair that looked vaguely like _my_ deck chair, Ralph, floating off beside me. If I had any whiskey, I’d pour one out for Ralph right now.

“I spy something with my little eye that starts with a--”

“I’m not playing any fucking games, Rose!” I yelled, trying to pull my arm away from her but she wouldn’t let go. I groaned loudly, letting my forehead drop down onto the door, before closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. This bitch is _literally_ going to be the death of me.

Rose sighed. “You’ve become a real stick in the mud lately. Can’t you perk up?”

“Perk up? I am DYING. I’m literally _dying.”_

“Of happiness?”

“OF DEATH. I AM DYING OF DEATH.”

Rose squinted her eyes at me, taking a closer look. “Ohhhhhhhhh. Yeah, you’re not looking great.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, no use fighting it. I accept your fate. Don’t you worry, Jack. I’ll make sure you get the best burial you can get. I’m not letting any poor people sell your corpse to science. I’ll make sure you get a proper burial.”

“Thanks…?”

“What build are you? Like 5’11? 160 pounds?” she asked, pulling out a measuring tape.

“I don’t know; I’ve never owned a scale.” I eyed her warily as she stretched out the measuring tape against my shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Just trying to figure out what size coffin to get.”

“Uh, I’m G. I appreciate the offer, but… I’m G. You can just shove me underwater; it’s cool.”

“Can I write your eulogy? It’d go something like… The dictionary defines ‘Jack’ as ‘any of various portable devices for raising or lifting heavy objects short heights, using various mechanical, pneumatic, or hydraulic methods.’ And, to some extent, I’m sure that’s true. But that’s not how I see him. Jack was--”

“Don’t talk about me in the past tense!” I snapped. “You know what, I’m not dying. I’m a survivor, alright?”

“Idk… you look really blue.”

I groaned in frustration and we spent a few moments in silence. I thought that would be the end of it, but then she piped up again.

“I love you, Jack.”

“Bitch, what did I just tell you? Don’t pull that shit. Don’t try to act all selfless now. Don’t say your fucking good-byes. I’m still alive and kicking.” Well, I’d kick if I could feel my legs, but I digress. “Furthermore, you _love_ me? Remember that it’s Sunday. We met on _Friday._ Give it a minute, alright?”

“No, I’m not saying it because of you. I think I might die first now, actually. It’s just… I’m so _cold._ You have no idea.”

I sighed. “I think I do.”

“Don’t presume to tell me how cold I am!” she snapped. “You don’t know me!”

I took a deep breath. “Listen, bitch. I know you’re not dying. You are the most self-absorbed cunt I have ever met. I know for a goddamn fact that you’re gonna get out of here if you have to crawl over every corpse in this ocean. You’re gonna go on, and you’re gonna have lots of sex--”

“Don’t be vulgar, Jack!”

“You’re gonna make lots of babies,” I corrected. “Which you should probably ix-nay, if your treatment of my best girl, Cora, is any indication of what kind of a mother you’ll be--”

“What did I tell you about saying that cunt’s name in my presence?” she hissed.

Case in point.

“And,” she added, “I’ll have you know I would be an excellent mother.”

“Fine, you’ll watch your babies grow. Whatever. You’re gonna die an old, old lady, warm in her rich bitch bed. Not here. Not this night. Not like this. Not on April 14/15, 1912. Not on my watch. Do you understand me?”

“I can’t feel my bodyyyyyyyy,” she whined.

OH MY GOD.

That was my best work. That was the best inspirational speech I’ve ever given. But she doesn’t deserve it. Where’s Fabby? He always got off to whatever I said. I looked around me, hoping there might be _someone_ who could listen to (and actually _appreciate_ ) my sexxi speech, but bitches were dying all over the place.

Alright, I guess this bitch is all I’ve got. I’m gonna really sell it this time.

Clasping her hands in mine, I continued, “Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to _you._ And you brought me to _money._ $42.21, to be exact.”

“But… I thought you just had ten bucks in your pocket?”

I grinned slyly. “I lied.”

“Dammmmnnnnnnnnn!” she said. “I mean, I spend that much on lunch every day, but look at you! Growing your little funds!”

I grinned. “That’s right. I’m a rich bitch now.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even in the _trip_ didge, let alone the quad or quint didge, so let’s not get too carried away, there.”

_“Just let me have this!”_

“Ite, ite,” she said, surrendering. “Continue.”

“What I’m saying is that I’m thankful for my money, Rose. I lived the American dream.”

“And I helped,” she said, grinning.

“Yes,” I sighed. “Kay thanks.” I still had more to say, but it wasn’t quite coming out. “Unghghghgh,” I choked out, trying to form words. Oh gah. I can’t breathe or think about anything but the pain! But I persevered. “Unghguhuhgg… you must--you must do me this honor,” I said, gripping her hands tightly between mine. At least, that’s what I wanted my hands to do. I couldn’t feel whether or not they actually do it.

“Bitch, what? Are you proposing? I don’t see a ring……………”

“No. God, no. I’m saying, do me this honor. Promise me that you’ll survive, because when I die, I need you to reach into my pocket and pull out the $42.21, alright? I want to leave a legacy. Like, maybe you could donate it to a children’s hospital and get them to name a wing after me.”

“Jack, it’s really not that much money…”

“Do your best! Maybe they could name a room, or a toilet after me, idk! Or maybe start a college fund for Cor--” I paused, seeing her eyes narrow--“I mean, for Cor… Corbin Bleu, that black kid who was in Holes?”

She nodded and seemed to accept that.

“I just want the world to know that Jack Dawson, of the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, was rolling in dough. Or maybe you could mail it to Fabby and Tommy--

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Oh…

Bro…

**~*~*~*~*Jack’s POV*~*~*~***

“--and maybe they could start something with it. But promise me that you’ll survive… and make that donation… no matter… what happens… no matter… how… hpdlfless…”

“What was that? You really need to enunciate, Jack.”

I grunted, trying to keep my freezing body from shivering. “Hopeless,” I tried. I took another three minutes to try to keep my body in check. “Promise me now, Rose. My clock is ticking. And never let go of that promise.”

Rose was all shivery too, now, because she saw me doing it. She’s such a drama queen. “I promise.”

“You’ll never let go?”

“Of your… hands…?”

“No! Of--of the promise.”

“Jack, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m dying!” I moaned. “Give me a break. So, once again. You’ll never let go?”

“Iiiiiiiiiite,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.”

“And you’ll get that Jack Dawson hospital wing going?”

“I mean… I can look into it, but forty dollars really isn’t--”

“$42.21,” I corrected.

“Ite, whatever. I’ll look into it,” she said. “But I know what the answer will be…”

I heard that shit but I was too cold/pist to deal with it. So I just grinned and kissed our clasped hands to be cute. My lips froze to them, which was awkward, but after a few pulls I managed to wrangle them away.

Then I got into a comfortable position (as comfortable as I could, anyway, with this bitch all up in my business) and closed my eyes, ready for death. If I was going to die, I was going to die cozy.


	13. Part Thirteen

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Commander Lowe perched himself on boat 14, his posture excellent, his hat and uniform perfectly in place, the starry night sky providing a beautiful backdrop as he shone his flashlight into the dark night.

He slowly moved his flashlight back and forth, back and forth, while his minions (Lowe was still trying to think of what to call them. He planned to treat them fairly and encourage unionizing) slowly rowed toward the bodies in the water.

“Right ahead, sir,” a minion said, maybe. Bitches need to stop mumbling.

“PAUSE!” Commander Lowe shouted. Alternatively, it could have been “OARS!” like, everyone stop moving your oars. Or it could have been “HORRRRRSE!” Maybe that’s a nautical term he just invented, which he’s allowed to do, what with the promotion and all. But “pause” makes the most sense, so let’s go with that.

Everyone _paused,_ holding their oars in place. See? It fits.

“Do you see any moving?” Lowe asked.

“No, sir,” said someone we’ll call Archie. “None moving, sir.”

“Check them! Bring an oar up here.”

“No disrespect intended, sir, but… they’re dead. They’re very, very dead. There is rigor mortis all up in here. Respectfully.”

“That’s not good enough! I want you to lift up every corpse and stare each one in the eyes, just to make bloody sure! Take their pulse as well.”

“I--ite,” Archie said. He fitted the earpieces to a stethoscope into his ears and began lifting up the corpses, which stared back at him with wide, dead eyes as he held the stethoscope to their chests to listen for a heartbeat. “These are… these are quite dead, sir.”

“Now give way,” said Commander Lowe, “and head easy.”

“Is that a nautical term?” Archie whispered to his rowing mate, Doug. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I think he made it up,” Doug replied quietly. “He can, you know. He’s a commander now.”

Archie nodded, and he and the other minions tried to do their best to both give way and head easy simultaneously. Archie continued lifting the bodies, shaking them a little, checking their blood pressure, and asking each one a few routine questions about their family’s medical history. But none of them responded.

“Careful with yourrrr oarrrrs,” Lowe warned, his voice trembling with feelings. “Don’t hit them.”

The minions did their best to softly patter the oars through the water so as not to disturb the bodies.

“Maybe sing them a nice song,” Lowe added.

Doug and Archie exchanged sidelong glances. After a moment of stalling, Doug sang out, “If you’re out on the road, feeling lonely and so cold. All you have to do is call my name, and I’ll be there on the next train.” Yes, Doug was a Gilmore Girls fan. But he also thought it might be reassuring in case anyone was alive out there; all they had to do was call his name! Doug really felt like he had won this game, and as if to confirm it, Lowe nodded his approval.

“IS THERE ANYONE ALIVE OUT THERRRRRE? CAN ANYONE HEARRRRR ME? IS THERE ANYONE ALIIIIIIVE OUT THERE?” Lowe bellowed over Doug’s singing.

Then Lowe’s flashlight landed on a frozen woman holding a frozen baby. He didn’t need Archie to tap their knees for a reflex test. He knew in his soul that they were dead.

“We waited too long,” Lowe choked out, biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling as his eyes filled with tears. He pulled out a monogrammed hankie and dabbed at his eyes.

Then he realized he was not alone, and turned to see the minions staring at him. “Well, keep checking them!” he ordered, hastily wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Keep lookin’! You there, keep singing that song!”

While Doug began singing again, Lowe resumed yelling, “IS THERRRRE ANYONE ALIVE OUT THERE? CAN ANYONE HEARRRRR ME?”

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

I’m… pretty sure I was dying.

I wasn’t _positive,_ because, like, I had never died before?

But nobody could _possibly_ survive when they were as cold as I am. It felt like… a thousand knives… stabbing me all over. Jack, frankly, was getting on my nerves. He wouldn’t let this whole $42.21 thing go. He just _doesn’t get_ that $42.21 is srsly _nothing_ in the land of rich bitches.

There was _no way in hell_ they would dedicate a hospital wing after him.

Even if he had a million dollars and was new money, he’d still have to be part of the (rich bitch) club for _at least_ a year before they’d consider dedicating a wing to him. I mean, poor people can’t just be trusted in the better half of society, can they?

No.

It took Molly Brown over a year to get her full membership, and even she is an _exception._ Most people didn’t turn out like her.

I was getting away from the point.

Anyway, my point was, Jack was really starting to irritate me. Normally, in a situation where I was annoyed, I’d just huff and walk off. But… I couldn’t exactly _walk off_ anywhere, could I? I couldn’t even _swim_ off, because, ha, I didn’t know how to swim. So I did the only thing I could do in this situation.

I turned my back on him.

_Feel the burn, Jack._

So, with my back to him, I stared up at the stars and thought of simpler times.

I briefly thought of our role-playing night, when we had been two drunk fools bobbing along on the decks when he was walking me back to the border. We had been singing our song… yes. Yes, I’ll sing it now.

I was very weak, though, due to the cold, so I sounded kind of pathetic. But it was still better than anything Jack could have done.

“Give me an A… always give me… what I want,” I sang, pathetic as ever. “Give me a V… be very, very good… to me…” I sighed, blinking up at the stars and trying to remember what it was like to be warm. “RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR you gonna treat me right? I… I can put up a fight.”

I could.

I knew how to spit now.

“Give me an L… let me hear you scream loud… hear you scream loud… 1, 2, 3, 4--”

Rudely, right before the gasm, someone started shining a light at me. What the fuck? I was busy? The chorus was coming back around… I couldn’t do this with a light shining in my face. Pissed as ever, I slowly turned my head to the side, ready to glare at whoever was temporarily blinding me.

I blinked a few times, wondering why a lifeboat was so close by. Weren’t they supposed to be rowing to shore? To the statue of liberty? Not so small, of course? Hmm. That’s funny. I’m pretty sure they were trying to communicate with me, but considering my eardrums were frozen solid it just sounded kind of like… “Rrarrrfjianybody ajdjdaaaalive fjffhfhoout hhhhhtttthehree?”

Were they… speaking poor?

I… I wasn’t fluent yet.

One of the minions at the front of the boat seemed to be grabbing dead people out of the water and putting a stethoscope up to their chests. That didn’t seem sanitary at all. He wasn’t even using an alcohol swab in between screenings. This was clearly had the plague had spread so quickly.

WAIT A MINUTE.

Lifeboat?

Minions?

Weird, distorted voices?

I knew I had to do the sum in my head, but god! I was just so cold! How was I supposed to sum under these conditions? I closed my eyes in thought, trying to remember what Jack had said about the lifeboats getting… organized? Or something? Ugh, I was too cold to remember!

“Hey, Jack? Can you help me for a sec? What’d you say about those lifeboats?” I asked, staring off to the side still, watching as the minion used a needle to inject one of the dead bodies with something, and then _didn’t even get a new needle_ before injecting the next. These were the worst doctors on the face of the planet.

Jack didn’t answer me.

I fucking hate him sometimes.

“Jack?!” I said louder, my patience completely gone. “Don’t be a fucking asshole just because I turned my back on you.” I rolled my eyes, as best I could considering their half-frozen state, and tried to place the song that the minions seemed to be singing. It reminded me of a TV show I used to catch my maids watching, but I couldn’t place it.

“JACK, YOU FUCKING DICK,” I exclaimed, ready to give him a piece of my mind. I reached my arm up and felt around for his hand. When I finally made contact with him, I pinched it as hard as I could.

That would show him.

Pissed off, I groaned loudly and used every bit of strength I had left in me to roll myself back over. He was definitely going to hear about this. I was in no state to be rolling over; didn’t he know I was fucking _dying?_ LITERALLY DYING? Finally rolling over, my jaw dropped when I realized he was…

He was _sleeping!_

“ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING?!” I exclaimed, slapping him. “How can you sleep at a time like this?! You need to be focusing on rescuing me!” I cocked my arm back and punched him as hard as I could. But… he didn’t flinch. “Hmm.” I nodded, impressed with his acting skills. It’s not like I hit badly, either. I had _fights_ under my belt now.

I beat up Bill Nye earlier, remember?

“Um. Jack?” I tried, shaking him a bit. “I… I need you to wake up and help me now. Sorry that I hit you,” I lied, rolling my eyes again before he woke up and saw my sass. “I’m just having trouble remembering what you said about the lifeboats, and there’s a lifeboat right over there trying to communicate with me. But I’m not fluent in Poor yet, so you need to wake up and translate, at least. Jack? _Jack? HELLLLLOOOO ANYBODY HOME?!”_ I said, rapping my fist on his head like it was a door.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Why was he just… _floating_ there?

I--

_…Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…_

He… wasn’t breathing.

I blinked a few times, watching for any signs of life, but he just kept sleeping. I didn’t see any puffs of air coming out of his nose, and after further inspection of his neck, his pulse didn’t seem to be thumping in his carotid artery. Slowly (because I’m _weak_ and _cold_ , okay?) I did the sum in my head and… I got dead for an answer.

…

RIP, Jack.

Now what the fuck was I supposed to do?!

I continued to blink at him, and then--even though I had already did the sum and realized 2+2= dead--I shook him a bit more and weakly said, “Jack?”

He was still dead.

“There’s--there’s a boat, Jack!” I said, sniffling back tears.

Not for Jack, but for _me._ This was _so unfair._ My life was always so unfair. Everything bad happened _to me._ I was literally the most unlucky bitch on this planet. I was raised with too much money, had the option of marrying a very funny man who I had a lot in common with and would do nothing but provide for me for the rest of my life, _survived_ the Titanic sinking _and then_ got left to die on a piece of wood?

My luck is fucking awful.

And now, to top things off, Jack was _dead._

And his stupid dead body was now my responsibility.

Fuck my life, seriously. Just. Just fuck my life.

Maybe I’ll just… yes, I’m going to lay down to die.

Accepting my fate as the world’s most unlucky gal, I rested thine cheek on my frozen hand (which was now connected to Jack’s dead body-- ew) and slowly let my eyes close for the last time.

__

Where are the hopes,  
Where are the dreams,  
My Cinderella story scene

As I waited to die, Av was the only thing I could think about. Who the fuck did she think she was, bitching about her hopes and dreams being lost? Clearly she didn’t get the memo. I, Rose DeWitt Bukater Dawson, was the most unlucky motherfucker on this planet. Av should be thankful for everything she had.

That you’re not, not, not gonna get any better  
You won’t, won’t, won’t, you won’t get rid of me never.  
Like it or not  
Even though she’s a lot like me  
We’re not the same. 

My eyes popped open.

Av was right.

Suddenly, some residual fireworks shot up into the sky, one after another, boom, boom, boom, spelling out the words:

_I_

_Was_

_Right_

Then, in quick rapid fire, ten fireworks went off back to back in the shape of exclamation marks. A smile slowly crept up onto my face. “You _were_ right, Molly… all this time,” I whispered into the abyss. “Jack and your son _were_ the same size… because they _were the same person._ Jack was your son all along. You were right this whole time because you knew it was always going to end up this way! You knew I’d end up in this exact situation, on this door, in the middle of the Atlantic, half frozen, singing Av to myself…”

I continued doing the sum. “You knew I would need a reason to live… you _knew_ I’d do the sum in my head and piece all of this together and get **live** for an answer.” Suddenly, the sky lit up with hundreds of fireworks all going off at the same time, creating a colorful glow all around me.

That’s it.

I had to live.

Not because I promised Jack or anything, but because Molly was right.

_Molly was right._

With a burst of adrenaline, I rolled myself back over onto my front and struggled to lift my head up like a newborn baby would. “Co--come--come back. Back. Come back? Come… back.” My voice was so weak… I had used every bit of energy left I had doing the Molly sum in my head and out loud. My voice was gone.

Oh, God! My voice was gone!

The boat! The boat was rowing away! They didn’t know I was alive!

DIDN’T THEY SEE THE FIREWORKS?

“Come back! Come back… _come back!_ Come back! Come back? Excuse me? Come back… Mr. Lifeboat, sir, I’m talking to you. Come back…” My voice… it was just… so weak. Oh no. Oh gah. What do I do? “Jack?” I looked back down at Jack’s dead body. “Jack, what do I do? I’m not good at making quick decisions? Jack--oh. Lol. You’re dead. My bad.” I chuckled at my antics.

**~*~*~*~*Commander Lowe’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

“HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” I called out casually.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?”

Oh, by the way, we had rescued an Asian man.

It was thought, _by some,_ that this scene wasn’t important enough to show. But… just know that it happened, okay? If you look closely, you can see his head in the corner. He’s there, I promise.

Being that we had already saved a life, we were getting ready to wrap this rescue mission up. I didn’t _really_ want to throw in the towel so soon, but… I mean… everyone was dead, and I had to accept that.

“There’s nothing here, sir…” Archie spoke up, confirming what was already going through my head. I sighed quietly, disappointed with my own actions, and gave one last looksie around with my flashlight _just to make sure._

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~*~**

“COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK, COME BACK!!!!” I demanded, pissed off that somebody was not paying attention to me. Didn’t they know who I was?

I’m _royalty!_

Then, in the most pathetic little whisper I had ever managed in my life, I gave one more: “Come back……” and then blinked about ten times. I… didn’t really know what to do now. But, I’ll tell you one thing, it was time to get rid of some dead weight around here.

HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYO.

Ha.

I laughed quietly to myself. Cal would have really appreciated that pun. I wonder if he survived. Maybe I should look him up once I get home, now that this whole Jack thing has gone south. (Jack will _also_ be going south once I disconnect his hand from mine. Very south. Ocean floor south.) I mean, I needed someone to provide for me the rest of my life still, right? That didn’t change. Don’t judge me.

Finally, after dumping hot water all over our hands (for defrosting and sanitizing. Win, win), Jack’s hand separated from mine. Thank **_god._**

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~**~**

You’re welcome, boo.

**~*~*~*~Rose’s POV~*~*~*~***

Then, just to make sure I had a clear conscience for the rest of my life, I started mumbling some sweet sentiments at Jack and repeating things he had asked me to promise. “I’ll never let go… I promise!” I said, kissing his hand before I thought better of it. But then, ironically, I let go of his hand.

Hah.

Then I spat out the grease that had accidentally gotten sucked into my mouth.

Jack’s body slowly started heading towards the ocean floor, where he belonged, in all honesty, but then a thought boinged into my mind. I quickly reached into the cold water and grabbed his wrist, pulling his dead body back up to the surface. I dipped my other hand back in the water and felt along his useless body until I found his pocket.

I grinned, pulling the $42.21 out of his pocket and retracting my hand from the water.

I was now $42.21 richer.

Life was looking up already.

“Bye, bitch,” I laughed, forcing his body back into the water.

Then I sighed. What to _do?_

I looked over and spotted Officer Wilde’s body floating on a deck chair, his whistle in his mouth. The whistle! I could use it to attract attention!

Slowly, I inched my way off the wood and fell into the icy water. Holy shit! This was so cold. I daresay it was colder than where I was on the door! Man, Jack really should have gotten himself some wood to lie on.

Then I kind of paddled my way across to Wilde, kicking my legs and grunting as I moved. I quickly learned that one thing Jack didn’t mention about swimming is that if you move your _arms,_ it helps as much as kicking. That bitch can’t do anything right.

By the time I made it to Wilde and his deck chair, I was exhausted. I almost reached for the whistle, but I knew I needed some energy, so I patted his body down, hoping for some granola bar or something. But I didn’t find anything. Ugg. Another reason to damn my life.

I pulled the whistle out of Wilde’s mouth. I was thinking I’d have to pry it free like I did with Jack, and that maybe some skin would come off or something, but nope! I just plucked it right out like a ripe berry!

I shoved the whistle into my mouth. I was so desperate that I didn’t even sanitize it first! But I was determined to live. I blew into the whistle, pathetically at first, and then louder.

**~*~*~*~*~Officer Lowe’s POV*~*~*~*~**

“It’s no use, lads,” I sighed. “Let’s just row away, I guess. I know there’s that whole section yonderrr that we haven’t rowed to, but there’s no point. It’s just more people I couldn’t save.”

“Don’t say that, sir,” Archie said.

“It’s alright. Let’s just row back to the other lifeboats and talk about our favorrrrite Gilmore Girls episodes.”

They nodded and began rowing away.

But then!

 

I heard a sign of life!

Some kind of shrill noise, like a baby bird chirping! If there was a baby bird in trouble, you can bet I was going to save it. I whipped my head in its direction, intrigued.

“COME ABOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!” I shouted to my men.

“Do you mean, like, turn around?” Doug asked.

“DIJASODJFDIOJ YES!”

So we _came about_ and began rowing toward the sound, and it was a _person!_ A human! I had now saved _two_ people!!!!!!!!!!!

We shone the flashlight on her as we rowed over, just to say, hey, we hear you, we see you, you can rest easy because we’re coming.

But she just kept blowing, and I was starting to take it personally. I was obviously on my way over. But I was too excited about having someone to save that I didn’t care.

“Ite, you’re good,” I said when we reached her. I took the whistle out of her mouth, and she kept trying to blow into it. “Well… in you go.” We lifted her into the lifeboat.

And then, so happy to have a survivor, I gave her the royal treatment (I wonder if she’s royalty?). I instructed one man to give her a packet of peanuts and read her some Sky Mall. I had Archie give her a full physical. And then I had another man tuck her into the boat with blankets. We had to move the Asian to the edge of the boat so she could fully lie down in it, but I’m sure he’d understand.

**~*~*~*~*FLASHFORWARD 84 YEARS*~*~*~*~**

**~*~*~*Old Rose’s POV*~*~*~**

“Are you sleeping?” Fatty asked.

I opened my eyes and glared at him. “No, I was just _remembering._ I’m old, remember? I have to _concentrate._ Anyway, I did the sum in my head, and 1,500 people went into the sea when Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby, and only one came back.” No one seemed to find that interesting, so I added some emphasis: _“One.”_ Then I glared at them until they nodded.

“One,” Brock echoed.

“That’s right. _One._ Six were saved from the water, myself included, and obviously you don’t need to know anything about them.” _Again_ they didn’t seem to find that figure interesting! These idiots! “Six,” I repeated, “out of _fifteen hundred.”_ I paused, waiting for some kind of reaction. But the idiots just stared at me.

“Well, moving on, I guess,” I said. “Afterward, the 700 people in the boats had nothing to do but wait. Wait to die… wait to live… wait for an absolution that would never come.”

I expected some kind of commentary there, like, _What a beautiful sentence, Rose! You have such a way with words!_

But silence all around.

These people are dicks.

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV*~*~*~**

I guess it’s montage time? That’s what I’m seeing here.

Well, Bruce Ismay sat in the boat, looking straight ahead and wishing he hadn’t taken off his mime outfit quite so soon. People were recognizing him and it was getting awkward. So he kept looking forward, not making eye contact with anyone. “I can’t see you, so you can’t see me,” he said, giggling to himself.

Cal was holding a fist to his mouth, impressing his fellow lifeboat passengers with his beatboxing skills. Even the fugly child was watching him in awe from her spot in some lady’s lap.

“That was some good stuff!” one of them, Daniel, said. “You want some booze?” He offered Cal his flask.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Cal said, torn. “What to _DEW?”_ He looked Daniel up and down. Daniel looked unwashed, and his clothes were all splotched with grime. Cal certainly didn’t want to catch AIDS tonight, but he didn’t want to insult Daniel, either, so he gingerly reached for the flash. “Thaaaaaaaaaankssssssss,” he said. He held the flask up to his lips and pretended to drink from it. “Mmmm.” Cal rubbed his belly and smiled. Daniel seemed to believe it.

Behind them, three bros cuddled together to keep warm. That’s all it was, alright?

Ruth rested her head on Molly’s bosom, pooped from all the farting she’d done (see what I did there?).

Rose lay wrapped in her blanket, all warm and cuddly in Commander Lowe’s boat. She looked up when she saw a green light and noticed that Lowe was using a green flare and was shouting while he did so.

“Excuse me, could you not?” she asked. “I’m trying to sleep over here. Hey, did I say you could stop rubbing my feet?” she snapped at Archie.

“Oh, my b!” Lowe said. “Sorry to disturb you. You go back to sleep, you. My little survivor.” He grinned and booped her on the nose, and Rose snuggled back under the blankets, satisfied. The five other people Lowe had rescued looked at him entreatingly, hoping that he too might give them a boop, or at least a blanket. They were survivors, too!

“Try not to disturb her; she’s sleeping,” Lowe whispered to them.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~*~**

I finally drifted off to sleep, and I woke up to see that we were rowing towards the Carpathia.

Ughhhhhhh this ship is such _crap_ compared to the Titanic.

“Can’t we wait for something better?” I asked Doug. He did not respond.

**~*~*~*~*Cal’s POV*~*~*~*~**

So then I was on the Carpathia (ugg, such _crap_ now that I’ve been on the Titanic!) and I couldn’t find Rose anywhere in the rich bitch area. There was no Spicey to do the looking for me, so I had to look _myself._ And it was hard! Maybe I should have given him a raise.

While I took a break to smoke a cigar, I realized something: it’s a ship! There are only so many places she could be!

With a new resolve, I stood up and decided to slum to the… ugg… steerage area.

I walked down the steps to the steerage deck, nearly bumping into who appeared to be a burly minion, leaning against the rail and smoking.

“Not a g’day today, mate,” the burly minion said. I nodded.

“Oh… sir,” said a minion, _touching my arm,_ “I don’t think you’ll find any of your people down here. It’s all steerage. Filth, sir,” he added.

I took his arm off of mine. “I have a child,” I said, since that seemed to get me out of everything. He nodded and ran off. Speaking of, I wonder what ever happened to that bitch. I better make sure she doesn’t see me.

I walked around the deck, looking around at all the poor people. All the… _blankets._

I passed a woman, who was desperately telling a minion, “His hair is reddish-brown! Reddish-brown!”

“Calm down, it’s alright!”

“Reddish-brown! Or burnt sienna, if we’re talking Crayola colors.”

I tuned them out and kept walking.

“Is there another passenger list?” a haggard old poor lady (wearing a blanket) asked a minion.

“Nah, girl, there ain’t no other list.”

“Well, perhaps he’s on another ship!”

“Bitch, please,” the minion said. “We’re the only ship around. Use your head. We’re doing all we can.”

“But there’s _got_ to be another passenger list!”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Excuse me,” I said, butting my head in between them. “I think what this gentleman is trying to tell you is that… he dead.”

“Yes, exactly,” the minion said, looking at me gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” I told the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder (well, not really. I didn’t want to touch the blanket). And then, having solved a problem, I continued on my stroll. But I didn’t see her! All I saw was a woman with a goddamn blanket wrapped around her. Weirdly, every time I moved, she moved in the opposite direction. When I went left, she went right. When I went toward her, she rolled away in the blanket like a runaway taquito. How silly!

 

Oh well, I guess that’s that. I was willing to take her back, but ite. I guess I’ll pour one out for her. As I walked, I started thinking up a suitable eulogy. Maybe something like… _The dictionary defines ‘Rose’ as ‘any of the wild or cultivated, usually prickly-stemmed, pinnate-leaved, showy-flowered shrubs of the genus Rosa…’_

RIP, Rosie.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV*~*~*~*~**

Tee hee hee Cal came right by me and I hid under the blanket! I’m so tricky!

Of course, as he left, I lowered the blanket entirely and stood up on a chair to get one last good look at him. The man could wear a suit well. He could have turned around at any point and seen me, but he didn’t, so it was all good.

I mean, I was still entertaining the idea of getting back with him, but then again the last time I saw him, he was trying to kill me, and I feel like that’s not a great sign. I feel like getting back with the guy who tried to kill you isn’t what Av would do. But idk. I’ll think about it and revisit it the next time I see him. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.

**~*~*~*~*~Flashforward 84 Years~*~*~*~***

“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, I thought,” I said, continuing my story. “But… that’s the last time I ever saw him--”

“What happened to him?!” Fatty rudely interrupted.

I glared at him. “Are you fucking serious? I was about to explain to you exactly what happened and you cut me off before I even had a chance! You’re so fucking rude,” I huffed, crossing my arms and continuing to glare at him. Nobody respected me here. Even though I was the star of the fucking show. Without my wonderful story, they’d still be stuck twenty thousand leagues under the sea in a submarine.

“Well?” Fatty finally asked, after almost an hour had passed.

“No. You tell the story,” I said cuntily. “You love hearing yourself talk so _you_ tell it.”

“But I… don’t… know the story?” Fatty said, looking very confused.

“Huh,” I laughed. “Could have fooled me, considering HOW MANY TIMES YOU’VE INTERRUPTED ME, YOU DICK.”

“Nana,” Lizzy suddenly cut in. Oh, I forgot that bitch was here. “This story has literally taken you weeks to tell… we’re all tired… and you’re so close to the end. Don’t you think you can just, like, forgive Fatty of his ways one last time and finish the story real quick? So we can all finally go to sleep? And eat a meal? I know Fatty wants a meal, don’tcha, boy?”

He nodded. “I do.”

I sighed loudly. “Fine. Where was I?”

Everyone looked around hesitantly. I groaned and rolled my eyes. “This isn’t a trick you stupid fucks. I’m a thousand years old and my memory’s shot; throw me a fucking bone here.”

“Oh,” Brock said, “I’m used to your trickery. You were about to tell us what happened to Cal.”

“Oh, right. So I remember thinking to myself that he could wear a suit well and that I’d revisit my feelings for him the next time I saw him. But… that was the last time I ever saw him.” I paused to glare at Fatty, waiting for him to interrupt. “He married, of course,” I went on, explaining what I had planned on saying all along. “Inherited his millions. But… the crash of ‘29 hit his interests hard.”

“What kind of crash?” Lizzy asked.

I blinked at her. “What?”

“What was the crash of ‘29?”

I blinked again. “You know… the crash.”

“Like… stock market?”

_Blink._

“Oil prices?”

_Another blink._

“You… lived it,” Lizzy said, slowly. “You… don’t know?”

“I… didn’t expect anybody to question me on it,” I said honestly. “That’s just what I had heard. I always assumed it had something to do with a horrific car crash, but, idk? Maybe you should Google it,” I offered. Lizzy seemed to accept that and she sat back down. _“Anyway--”_

“Wait a minute,” Fatty said.

Everyone groaned.

“How come _she_ can interrupt you, but _I_ can’t?”

“Because,” I sighed, _“she’s_ not fat.”

Everyone seemed to accept that answer and they all went back to listening. “Where was I… where was I… OH! The crash of ‘29! Right, so that hit his interests hard and he put a pistol in his mouth that year. Then he realized that he actually had to _shoot_ the pistol in order for anything to happen, so he spat the pistol out and loaded it, and then he shot himself in the head. RIP, Cal. RIP.”

“Oh my god,” Brock said. “That’s… that’s _tragic.”_

“ _THAT’S_ tragic? Have you not been listening to this whole fucking story? This story is about the TITANIC, Brock. Everybody died! Well, except me. BUT A LOT OF PEOPLE DIED. I just told you about everyone I know dying and you say nothing! But when I tell you that _Cal_ died, you feel the need to pipe up and say it’s tragic?”

“I… well, yeah. I liked Cal.”

I sighed. “Me too.”

Srsly, RIP Cal.

“So then what happened?” Brock asked.

**~*~*~*~*Flashback to 84 years ago~*~*~*~***

So I was standing in the pouring rain, in the middle of the decks on this filth ship, watching in shock and awe as the statue of liberty passed. It was… _fucking huge._ So huge! Everything I had heard about it, up until this point, had led me to believe it was going to be very small, of course.

But it was not.

It was _not._

Suddenly a minion appeared with an umbrella. “Bitch?” I said, looking Nathan directly in the eyes. “You’re killing my emo vibe here.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your umbrella is blocking the rain,” I said, pointing up at the umbrella. “How am I supposed to have a true emo scene if I’m not standing in the rain?”

“Oh…” he trailed off, taking a hesitant step backwards until I was back in the rain. “Better?”

I nodded. “Much.”

“Can I take your name then, love?”

“You may not.”

“Oh…” Nathan paused. “I, um, well I kind of need your name?”

“Why?” I asked. “What’re you doing? What are you signing me up for?”

“Nothing… I just… need a list of names.”

“But _why?”_

“I’m just doing my job,” Nathan sighed. “I was told to get everyone’s name. Nobody has given me trouble until you…”

“Bitch? I’m _royalty._ You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Oh… I just assumed that because you were in the steerage… that…”

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know what happens when you assume.”

Silence.

“Can I _please_ just have your name?”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Rose De--”

**~*~*~**~Flashback to 5 nights ago~*~*~*~***

“I’m Jack Dawson,” he said.

“Rose DeWitt Bukater.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’m gonna have to get you to write that one down.”

**~*~**~*~*~End flashback~*~*~*~**

Man. That name _was_ long and stupid. Maybe I could just…

“Dawson. Rose Dawson.” I smiled proudly to myself. This was such an _awesome_ idea. Nobody would ever find out that Rose DeWitt Bukater lived! It’s not like they’re gonna check my passport and make me go through customs or anything! I can just _start a new life!_ MAN, LIFE WAS GOOD.

_“Thank you,”_ Nathan said, scribbling down my name before he scurried off.

**~*~*~*~*Flashforward 84 years~*~*~*~***

“So he said _thank you_ and then he scurried away--”

“We never found anything on Jack,” Fatty said, cutting me off for the thousandth time. “There’s no record of him at all.” I… didn’t even have any fight left in me. I had owned this guy so many times that it was just _exhausting_ now.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” I sighed, defeated. “You would know that you _wouldn’t_ find anything on Jack Dawson. Because he _won his ticket_ during a _lucky hand of poker._ Therefore, he was using _someone else’s ticket._ His name wouldn’t be _anywhere_ near the Titanic. He SNUCK ON THE SHIP, Fatty. I...I just don’t get why you would even say this to me. It’s clear to me now that you weren’t listening at all over the past few weeks.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” Fatty said, doing the sum in his head. “I get it.”

“And,” I continued, ignoring Fatty, “I’ve never spoken of him until now. Not to anyone. You guys are getting Titanic: The First Edition, but clearly that’s not good enough for you. Since you weren’t even listening. I didn’t even tell your grandfather,” I said, making eyes with Lizzy. “My relationship with him was a big fat _lie._ He thought I was poor, but _little did he know_ that I--well. That I was, you know, um, born… rich,” I trailed off, realizing that I hadn’t said anything about the location of the diamond.

I patted my pocket, feeling the diamond was still there, before I continued.

“A woman’s heart is a… deep ocean of secrets,” I said, and then paused for dramatic effect. Everyone stared at me, waiting for me to continue. I sighed loudly; they weren’t even appreciating all these lines that I had prepared over the years for when I finally told my story. That was some _deep_ shit.

“Whatever,” I groaned. “Now you know there was a man named Jack Dawson. Okay, are we done here? Can I go home?” I asked, attempting to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a fucking minute,” Brock said, suddenly getting very pissed. “That can’t be the end of the story!”

“But it is,” I said, shrugging slightly. “Literally nothing else happened. Nothing that you need to know. That’s how my story ends.”

“But what about…”

“WHAT ABOUT WHAT?” I asked, glaring at him. “I just told you the most dramatic story of my life, you can’t possibly be about to ask me a _selfish_ question, right?” I said, raising a cunty eyebrow at him. I saw him having an internal struggle. I knew he wanted to ask me about the diamond, but he also knew I was likely to kill a bitch.

“So… that’s just… it, then? There… was a man named Jack Dawson?”

I sighed, sitting back down. “Yes. And… I mean,” I sighed again, trying to figure out how to sum up Jack Dawson. “Had he _lived,_ things might have been different. But he died. And I lived, no thanks to him. I’m a survivor, you see? Remember when I told you I rolled off the door and into the water and stole that guy’s whistle? Jack didn’t tell me to do that. Nope. That was all me.”

“But he had a hand in saving you,” Fatty spoke up. “I mean, he did a lot for you.”

“Nope,” I said, popping the end of the word. “It was all me. I saved myself. He always claimed he was a survivor, but he let himself freeze to death in the water. That was a pretty shit move on his end, dontcha think?” I chuckled. Oh, Jack.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Fatty asked. “It’d really help with my mental image I got going on.”

“No,” I said. “I do not.”

“Oh…” he trailed off.

“He exists now… only in my memory,” I said, in the most dramatic way possible. I looked up after a few minutes of silence, expecting them all to be crying their eyes out over it, but… they didn’t even looked fazed. I fucking hate everyone.

“Well, fuck me,” Brock said, standing up and kicking over a chair. “This was a _big_ waste of my time! Fatty, call off the minions who are currently searching the Titanic! There’s NO USE. You could have just _told me that_ three weeks ago when you boarded this ship, but NO. You had to spend EVERY HOUR OF MY LIFE telling me this long, _pointless_ story! ALL I WANTED WAS THE DIAMOND. THAT’S ALL I WANTED.”

I chuckled quietly; clearly he hadn’t heard the part where I explained that Cal was laughing with Lovejoy… and Lovejoy was asking him why… and he said that he put the diamond in the coat and the coat on me. That’ll teach these bitches for not listening to my award-winning story.

_That’ll teach them._

**~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~***

So then Brock called off his minions and they drove away from the Titanic, in their sub, and popped back up above water. Brock was standing on the boat decks, trying to chat up Lizzy, while being dramatic about the whole thing.

“You know,” Brock sighed, fingering his cigar. He sniffed it a bit and then went back to fingering it. “I was saving this for when I found the diamond…” he said, making sure Lizzy was watching him as he sniffed the cigar again. She had a disgusted look on her face, not understanding why he kept sniffing it.

He waited until just the right moment before he tossed the cigar overboard.

“Oh…” Lizzy said. “Well. That was an expensive cigar. You… probably could have just, like, lit it.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Brock chuckled. “Wanna go have sex?”

“Ehhh, maybe in a minute.” She shrugged. Silence washed over them and they both looked emo out into the ocean. “I’m sorry,” she finally offered up. She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for not wanting to have sex right then and there, or apologizing for the fact her grandmother survived the Titanic and her story wasn’t up to his liking.

Either way, it was pretty ridiculous that she was apologizing.

This was her grandmother’s _life_ after all.

But. K.

“Three years…” he said, dramatic as ever. “I’ve thought of nothing but Titanic. Literally. I’d wake up, diamond, pee, diamond, have a good masturbating session, while thinking of the diamond, of course. Ugh. And now it turns out that… well, I guess I don’t know what happened to the diamond, do I? Rose never really said it didn’t exist anymore. But I’m just gonna assume it’s GONE FOREVER.”

He then proceeded to bang his head against the railing while crying softly.

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

Meanwhile, I was dragging my old ass out onto the back of the boat. We had all parted ways after my story had ended and I had gone back to my room, and Lizzy had scurried off to go _do the dew_ with Brock, or something. Idk. But I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened! And how nobody had taken my story seriously!

If they had been listening, they’d _know_ I have the diamond!

But they _weren’t._ So… now everyone’s going to be punished.

I could give the diamond to Lizzy. She could sell it and be a billionaire for the rest of time. I would be taking care of my entire family for generations to come with the money she’d make off of it… but. She wasn’t listening to my story.

I could give the diamond to Brock. Brock’s life mission would be complete, he could give it to a museum, make millions off of it. People would treasure the diamond for the rest of time and everyone would know my story… but. He wasn’t listening to my story.

Oh, and there’s no way in _hell_ I’m giving this shit to Fatty.

Nope.

He’s a dick.

So, I did the only reasonable option left.

I slowly edged myself towards the railing (it was amazing that I wasn’t _terrified_ of ships) and extended my frail hands out until I grabbed a hold of it. I looked down at the water and was not at all reminded of the time I almost died here! Nope, this was all very casual. So then I lifted my crusty foot onto the railing and, even though I was struggling to walk and had to sit this whole time, I had enough strength to pull myself up and climb the _railing!_

Man, even at 100 years old, I was a _dish._

I slowly opened my hand to reveal the diamond that I was about to selfishly dispose of, and it caused me to have a flashback.

**~*~*~*~*Flashback 84 years ago~*~*~*~*~***

So I was still standing in the rain after giving Nathan my name.

In true emo form, I was quietly singing our song to myself. “And yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a lot to handle… you don’t know trouble, I’m a hell of a scandal…” I sang, the rain pouring down all around me, staring up at the (very big, of course) statue of liberty. Suddenly, even though I have had my hands in my pockets plenty of times, I began to realize it was not a roll of quarters in my pocket.

Was that…

I pulled the item out of my pocket, my eyes going wide.

Oh my gah.

It was the heart of the ocean.

**~*~**~*~*Flashforward 84 years~*~*~*~***

I laughed at the memory.

Oh, me.

Thanks for putting the diamond in the coat and the coat on me, Cal.

RIP.

Anyway. Back to business. I stared at the diamond in my old crusty hand for a good ten minutes, reflecting back on life and reflecting back on my storytelling, and the fact nobody had listened to me properly or gasped at the appropriate times.

Nooooo, they had to get all caught up in details, like how my music box played Screamer and such.

Those _dicks._

So then, I made a really obnoxious noise that conveyed _Ohhhhh noooo, what a terrible mistake!_ as I slam-dunked the diamond into the ocean. It splashed and immediately started sinking and I watched it as it went.

It twirled and twisted and sashayed until it was out of my sight.

I smiled to myself, selfishly, and looked up at the heavens above. “One more for me, Cal.”

**~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ’s POV~*~*~*~***

Let’s take a second, okay?

Let’s talk about Rose’s pictures.

I could just tell you what happened, all the things she did after she survived the Titanic, but I’d rather just show you a montage instead. So remember all those suitcases she brought on board with her? And how she told Brock she always needed her pictures when she travelled? Even though it’s ridiculous to travel with a bunch of picture frames?

Anyway, those. Let’s talk about those.

So the first one is a picture of Rose being super dramatic.

As usual.

She’s all posed and primped and proper-looking and whatever.

The next one is of her standing in front of plane.

We… never actually talked about planes in this story, but apparently this was supposed to be significant. I guess you could relate it to the fact that Jack made Rose feel like she was flying? At one point? Remember that? Yeah. Either way, she had one of her fat feet propped up on the plane and she was wearing a ridiculous outfit.

Anyway.

The _next_ one, oh man, this is a good one. This is symbolic as **fuck.**

She’s on this horse, right? _Both legs_ on each side. She’s riding this horse like a _man._ Oh, and this horse? It’s not just anywhere, no, it’s _right in the surf._ Which leads me to believe that whoever _took_ the picture was _probably_ like, waist-deep in water… but… you know, Rose has always been a cunt, so it wouldn’t shock me if she made someone do this. Anyway, in the background of the picture, you can faintly see a pier that is supposed to represent the Santa Monica pier. Actually, it might be, I wouldn’t know.

I didn’t create the earth, Dad did.

So yeah, like, she’s doing everything she said she’d do with Jack…

Except _without_ Jack.

But it’s symbolic, okay?

Whatever.

Let’s go back to Titanic.

Why? Because… Rose died.

RIP, Rose.

But don’t worry. She died a _seriously_ old fucking lady, warm in… Brock’s… bed. She had promised Jack something about dying warm in _her_ bed, but… I mean, when your time is up, your time is up. And seriously, her time was fucking _up._ She was old as _fuck._

**~*~*~*~*Rose’s POV~*~*~*~**

So then I was dead.

_Finally._

I was so excited to go to heaven! I had done so many amazing things in my life, _after_ the Titanic of course (because I had _84_ years of life experiences that were _so much better_ than Titanic. Titanic was actually a pretty horrible moment in my life). Anyway, I couldn’t wait to find out what heaven was!

Was my dead husband going to be there?

Was Lizzy’s mother, my daughter, going to be there? I just, you know, assume she died because Lizzy takes care of me and not my daughter…. But I’m old, okay? I don’t remember.

Anyway, there were so many possibilities! Maybe I’d get to relive that day I flew a plane! That was a pretty awesome day! I wouldn't mind doing that every day for the rest of my life.

So I followed the light and all this swishing water as everything turned from earth to heaven, my erection bursting at the seams the whole time. We turned a corner, the corner to heaven, and I couldn’t help but notice that something looked… very familiar. I couldn’t place where I was, because everything was a bit foggy still, but I suddenly got the feeling like I was back on…

Oh my fucking god.

I was back on the _Titanic._

Oh my god.

_WHY THE FUCK WAS I BACK ON THE TITANIC?_

I was a good person! I didn’t deserve to go to hell! Why was I in hell?!?!?!?!

Was it because I made a lot of fat jokes?

I was a _treat!_ I don’t deserve this.

Suddenly everything was clear, all the fog gone, and there was a minion waiting by the door ready to open it for me. I crossed my arms and shook my head. “No, thank you. I reject this. I would like to go to heaven now.” But… he didn’t listen! Instead he just _opened the door_ and suddenly _every single person_ who was on Titanic with me was staring at me!

Literally everyone!

Trudes, Good Charlotte, JJ, Tommy, and--

“NO. No you can’t be here!” I said, staring over at Cunty Cora. “I refuse to let you be a part of this!” But… the bitch stayed there and I kept floating past her, or whatever. Anyway, I got distracted for a second when I saw Mr. Murdoch! “Hey, pal!” I greeted, smiling fondly at him.

And then…

OH MY GOD

“MR. ANDREWS!!!!!” I exclaimed, running up to him and giving him the largest hug ever. “IT’S SO GOOD TO SEE YOU!!!” I said, letting him kiss both my cheeks. But then he directed me toward the star of the show… he wanted me to walk up the stairs. There was a man standing in front of the clock, I could smell him from here--didn’t I steal that clock?

I sighed, parting ways from Mr. Andrews and slowly walking up the stairs.

Was that… oh…

That was… Jack.

Well, this is awkward… I mean, I moved on really fast and got married within a year of him dying… I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. “Hi there…” I muttered, looking down at his filth-covered hand that he gestured my way. “Oh, you want to… oh, okay,” I said, sighing quietly before grabbing a hold of his hand.

Even in death, I would have AIDS.

Why couldn’t I be with my dead husband right now?

My life is so unfair.

So then Jack pulled me up the last few steps and he _kissed_ me! I was so conflicted. Wasn’t I now cheating on my dead husband? Man, this was the Cal situation all over again! Speaking of, where was Cal in all of this? Before I had a chance to look around for my old friend, everyone started clapping!

That’s right, bitches.

Bow down to me.

Suddenly, Jack pulled away from me and just stared at me… grinning like a maniac.

“I… I have to ask you,” I whispered. “Why am I _here?_ And not, you know, with my… family?” I asked, hoping I wouldn’t offend him.

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Because we have unfinished business.”

“Oh?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at his sexual innuendo he had just made. I was down for some heaven sex.

Just as I was about to spread my legs, he cleared his throat and said, “Bitch? Where’s my $42.21?”

  
**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We really hope you enjoyed it and at least got a few good laughs out of it!


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